The JohnsonWeasley Story
by LavenderBrown
Summary: COMPLETED. A story all about Fred and Angelina, from the day they meet in their first year at Hogwarts through Year Seven. All sorts of fluff. Rated R for sex and language (but no twincest). RR!
1. Chapter One: The Sorting

The Johnson/Weasley Story  
  
A nice fluffy story all about Fred Weasley and Angelina Johnson, from their first meeting through seventh year.  
  
Rated R (later chapters) for language and sexual situations. Absolutely NO twincest. Sorry.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Don't own anything. Don't sue.  
  
Chapter One: The Sorting  
  
Fred Weasley's whole body was tense with anticipation. He was finally here. Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Next to him, his twin brother George was equally apprehensive. The first year students all stood in a clump, staring up at the dais on which the staff table rested. The first years were about to be sorted into their houses.  
  
Fred wanted Gryffindor, of course. Slytherin was out of the question. Fred was a pure-blood, which qualified him for that house, but Slytherin was also the house that had produced all manner of dark witches and wizards, including the most famous one of all, Lord Vol-...Well, Lord You-Know-Who. Plus, Fred had heard from his older brother Charlie that Slytherins were all prats.  
  
Ravenclaw was probably not in Fred's future either, as Ravenclaw was the house for all the brainy types. Fred had never been like that. He and George had firmly established themselves as the troublemaker brothers in the family, always playing pranks and getting into mischief and tormenting their brothers. Well, not Bill, the oldest, and Charlie, the next oldest; they were much bigger than Fred, so Fred didn't mess with them. But Fred and George loved to annoy the snot out of Percy, who was a real fussbudget, and of course little Ron. Ickle Ronniekins, as Fred and George loved to call him. Then there was Ginny, the youngest Weasley child and the only girl. Fred and George teased her, too, but never so much as Ron and Percy. Ginny was so young, anyway. It wasn't as much fun to tease her. Yet.  
  
In any case, Fred knew Ravenclaw was not for him. Nor, most likely, was Hufflepuff, the house known for having the hardest working students. Fred and George had never worked hard at much of anything except making trouble.  
  
So it was down to Gryffindor, the house where all his brothers so far had been sorted. The house where his parents had been. The best house in the whole school, as far as Fred was concerned.  
  
"When I call your names," said the tall, severe looking witch standing next to the dirty old wizard hat perched on the stool, "you will come forward and be sorted into your houses."  
  
Fred gulped. The moment had come. It would take a while to get to him and George, their surname being near the end of the alphabet. Which gave Fred plenty of time to get more and more nervous about the whole sorting thing. Charlie had once said being sorted was really painful. Bill had mentioned some sort of test they had to take.  
  
The Sorting Hat sang a song of some sort, but Fred was too nervous to really hear it. After a few minutes, it went silent, and Professor McGonagall unrolled a long scroll and began to read from it.  
  
"Abbott, Elizabeth."  
  
Elizabeth Abbott walked slowly up to the dais, sat on the stool, and looked terrified as Professor McGonagall placed the dirty hat on her head.  
  
"HUFFLEPUFF!"  
  
Cheers went up from the Hufflepuff table, and Elizabeth Abbott grinned weakly and walked down the dais to join her housemates.  
  
Fred tried to focus on something to take his mind off the inevitable. Looking at the severe witch who was calling out names was no good; she was rather intimidating looking. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, which was good, but she also looked very strict, which was not so good. Probably just like Mum, thought Fred, though perhaps without all the yelling. This McGonagall doesn't look like she NEEDS to yell.  
  
Fred looked away from Professor McGonagall and at his fellow first years. To a one they all looked small and scared. There were a roughly equal number of boys and girls. He knew some would be pure-bloods, some half, some Muggle-borns. The Muggle-borns fascinated Fred the most. How strange, really to be born to non-magic people.  
  
Fred's eyes passed through the crowd but the students were too bunched up for him to really see any distinct faces. He did notice that there was every manner of skin and hair color. Fred and George, of course, stood out because of their vivid Weasley red hair.  
  
Next to Fred, George squirmed. Like Fred, he hated ceremony. Just get it over with. And besides, they were both starving. They'd heard plenty from their older brothers about the spectacular Hogwarts' feasts, and Fred's stomach growled in anticipation.  
  
"Davies, Roger."  
  
"RAVENCLAW!"  
  
Good lord, this was taking forever. Fred's stomach gave a rather loud grunt. The sound of giggling came directly behind Fred, and he turned, feeling a bit embarrassed and indignant.  
  
He came face to face with a girl. A girl with velvety dark brown eyes and skin the color of...what? Fred thought. Like his dad's coffee after he'd put some cream into it. That was it. Coffee and cream. She was the giggler.  
  
"What?" he hissed.  
  
"Hungry, are you?" she asked, grinning.  
  
Fred studied the girl who'd been laughing at him. He saw at once that she was quite pretty, although when he saw her hair, which was braided in elaborate cornrows, he was immediately tempted to yank on those braids in retaliation for her laughing at him. But she was smiling at him, and she had the whitest, most perfect teeth he'd ever seen.  
  
"A bit," he said, but he didn't tug on her hair. Maybe because he didn't really want to get in trouble with that stern-faced witch who was calling out names. Or maybe because those perfect teeth of hers were casting some sort of spell on him.  
  
"Johnson, Angelina."  
  
The girl who'd giggled at him gave a little gasp and started forward.  
  
Angelina Johnson, thought Fred. Angelina. Fancy name, that. The girl was tall for her age, he noticed. Tall and long-limbed and a bit awkward. She stumbled, just a bit, and the Slytherins laughed. Fred felt a rush of anger. They really were prats. Good lord, so she'd stumbled a bit. So what? As if a Slytherin never got nervous and stumbled a bit!  
  
Angelina smiled faintly at Professor McGonagall and sat on the stool. McGonagall lowered the hat slowly to Angelina's head; it was barely touching her hair when it bellowed "GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
Cheers erupted from the Gryffindor table and Angelina smiled sheepishly and headed to the Gryffindor table. Fred followed her progress with his eyes and was suddenly struck by how very much he wanted to be in Gryffindor, too. They can't be all bad, he thought, if they have nice girls like Angelina in them. Angelina. He liked that name. She did look kind of angelic.  
  
"Jordan, Lee."  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
The sorting dragged on. Fred's stomach was growling very loudly by now but it was joined by nearly every other first year left. They got through the L's, the M's, the N's. When, WHEN would they get to the W's?  
  
"Weasley, Frederick."  
  
Fred gave a start. What? Hadn't they just finished with the R's?  
  
"Fred, go," George hissed. Fred nodded, his heart in his throat and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He headed up the steps to the dais and toward the school, with a look on his face as though he were facing his executioner.  
  
Gryffindor, he thought wildly. I HAVE to be in Gryffindor. He looked down at the Gryffindor table. At once he saw his older brother Percy, who looked haughty and serious, as always. What a git. Way too serious for his own good. Then Fred caught sight of Angelina Johnson, and she smiled at him.  
  
Please, let me be in Gryffindor, Fred thought. He felt, rather than saw, the Sorting Hat get placed on his head. It slipped down over his ears and blocked his vision.  
  
"Another Weasley," said the hat in a low voice. "Only one place for you to go. GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
Fred nearly fell off the stool with relief. He pulled the hat up, ignoring the way his hair was now sticking up, and practically jumped off the dais to join the Gryffindors. A moment later George joined Lee Jordan; the two of them immediately began a kind of huddled conversation. Lee was all right. The twins had met him on the train journey here.  
  
Fred walked right over to the girl named Angelina Johnson and sat next to her.  
  
"Fred Weasley," he said, holding out his hand.  
  
"Yeah, I know," said Angelina. "You're one of Charlie Weasley's brothers. He's, like, a legend. Best Seeker in decades. Well, at least that's what my dad says."  
  
"You follow Quidditch?" said Fred.  
  
"I PLAY Quidditch," said Angelina. "Well, not really. I mean, I know how to. I've been flying since I was five. I hope I can try out for the team next year; there'll be an opening for Chaser. That's what I'm best at. My mum and dad promised to get me a new racing broom for my birthday next year, too! Do you play?"  
  
Fred was a bit bewildered by the girl's rapid babbling, but he nodded.  
  
"I usually play Beater when we play at home," said Fred. "I'm trying out next year, too. My brother George and me both."  
  
"Cool," said Angelina, grinning. "So you're both trying out, huh? What sort of brooms are your mum and dad going to get you?"  
  
"Oh," said Fred, and he immediately flushed crimson. "Well, uh, we don't really...I mean...I'll...I'll probably just use whatever broom we have...round the house."  
  
Fred looked down, feeling very ashamed. Of course he wasn't getting a new broom. He didn't have much that was new. That's what happened when you had three older brothers and not much money to spare. You got hand me downs. In fact, Fred couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten anything new. Even his schoolbooks were second hand.  
  
"Oh," said Angelina, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Well, what really matters is the person flying the broom, not the broom itself."  
  
"Yeah," said Fred, cheering up a little. She was nice, this girl. Well, as nice as any girl could be. Everyone knew girls were weird and strange and did funny things and had cooties. But at least this girl liked Quidditch. That was cool. And she was nice to look at, too. As far as girls went, anyway. Maybe his first year wouldn't be so bad after all.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
A/N: Sick of me yet? My James and Lily fic is winding down and I couldn't resist writing about my favorite twin and my favorite Chaser.  
  
Just a note that this story skips over quite a bit of time. First chapter is first year, second chapter will be second year, and so on, with the last few chapters devoted to seventh year; I'll note any deviation from this formula if it comes up. 


	2. Chapter Two: The Marauder's Map

Chapter Two: The Marauder's Map  
  
"Ready, Twin?" said George.  
  
"Ready," said Fred.  
  
The two of them were huddled behind a statue of Leo the Lascivious. George carefully pulled the small round package from his pocket. Students were moving up and down the corridors on their way to the library or their common rooms.  
  
"One, two," Fred counted, "THREE!"  
  
George hurled the round object with all his might into the corridor. It flew a good thirty feet, landed on the floor, bounced, flew another few feet, then burst with a loud, wet splat.  
  
Nasty brown goo instantly coated the floor and a sickening sort of smell filled the air, followed by a huge, thick cloud of smoke. Fred and George hastily buried their noses in their cloaks as a crowd of students in the corridor let out screams and hollers of disgust. Two Slytherins stood spluttering only a few inches from the Dungbomb; their cloaks were spattered with stinky brown mud.  
  
Fred and George sank behind the statue, laughing silently, so hard that tears ran down their faces.  
  
"Good one, Twin!" Fred said, and he weakly gave George the high five. They turned round again to survey their handiwork when suddenly Fred felt a rough hand yank him back by his robe collar. A loud grunt from George indicated the same must be happening to him.  
  
"Caught in the act!" said a furious, slightly wheezing voice. "You're in it now, Weasley twins! You're coming with me."  
  
"Uh oh," Fred gasped.  
  
But there was little he or George could do as Filch--stronger than he normally was due to his rush of fury--dragged them both down the corridor to his office. Several Gryffindors clapped at Fred and George, while the dung-splattered Slytherins hissed and made rude gestures at them. Fred and George made rude gestures right back.  
  
Soon enough they were yanked into Filch's musty office. Mrs. Norris, his mangy cat, was sitting on a chair, regarding them coolly with her lamplike eyes.  
  
"Look what we have here, my pet," Filch crowed, shoving Fred and George roughly against his desk. "Two little lawbreakers. And they are IN for it."  
  
Mrs. Norris gave a mewl and a hiss that sounded remarkably like approval. Fred glared at the cat and resisted the urge to give her a kick.  
  
Fred rubbed his sore neck, which was chafed from where Filch had grabbed his robes; he glanced at George, but George was staring up at Filch with a defiant expression. Fred followed suit. Neither one of them were really afraid of Filch. He was old and feeble and had a limp. But he also had a temper and he hated every student at the school (which begged the question of why he worked at a school when he loathed children), and everyone knew he firmly believed that the school ought to be using the "old punishments," whatever those were.  
  
"Now," said Filch triumphantly, "just WHAT am I gonna do with you little shites, eh? In the old days I would have had permission to whip you both within an inch of your lives, you know. Or maybe, I would have given you a night dangling from the ceiling by your thumbs. That'd teach you. But now, dammit, the school's had to get all 'enlightened.' The worst I can do to you is give you detention."  
  
Fred and George glanced at each other and swallowed; Fred wasn't about to show Filch a sign of fear, but deep down he was grateful that Hogwarts had indeed chosen a more 'enlightened' path when it came to punishing students.  
  
"So detention it is," said Filch nastily. "A week's worth, I think. Plenty of cleaning for the both of you. You'll scrub every inch of that corridor with toothbrushes, you hear? And you won't get to quit until I say you can!"  
  
Fred nodded absently but he wasn't really paying attention, because his eyes had strayed to one of Filch's numerous filing cabinets. A label on the outside of it read "Confiscated and Highly Dangerous." Fred bit back a grin and looked at George. George looked back and smirked. He, too, had seen the cabinet.  
  
It was far, far too tempting to pass up. Fred nodded at George. George slipped a hand inside his robes and pulled out another small, spherical package. Filch was still yammering on, pacing the room, working up a good head of steam about how, if it were left to him, he'd disembowel the twins in front of the whole school for fouling up a hallway.  
  
George waited until Filch had paced to the other side of the room, away from both the cabinet and the door. Filch turned his back...  
  
George hurled the second Dungbomb against the back wall of Filch's office, where it smacked against the stones and broke, instantly releasing more foul-smelling gas.  
  
"GODDAMMIT!" Filch screeched. The small, stuffy office quickly became so foul and smoky that Fred and George not only felt slightly sick but had difficulty seeing where Filch might be.  
  
"Go, Fred!" George yelled.  
  
Fred leapt toward the contraband cabinet, ripped open a drawer at random and grabbed the first thing he could get his hands on. It was a piece of old parchment. Fred glanced up to see a vague outline of Filch in the distance, floundering round in the thick smoke.  
  
"Come on!" George yelled.  
  
The two of them raced for Filch's front door.  
  
"Don't you go anywhere!" Filch yelled, and he started to limp toward them. But Fred and George didn't waste any time (Fred was about to throw up as it was, the stench in the office was so bad). George yanked open the door and the twins bounded out of Filch's office, taking the corridors at a sprint. As they rounded the corners they heard Filch bellowing at them, calling them a slew of very rude names.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"That's it?" said George, sounding thoroughly disappointed. "That's ALL you were able to get?"  
  
They were sitting in the empty common room one Saturday afternoon, in the aftermath of receiving a month's worth of detentions from Professor McGonagall (Filch had immediately sought her out and informed on them both). The other students were outside playing in the snow.  
  
"I just grabbed what was on top," said Fred defensively. The thing he'd stolen from Filch's office was on the coffee table.  
  
"Great," said George. "We're gonna get a month's worth of detentions for an old piece of parchment. That's just brilliant, Fred."  
  
"Piss off," said Fred angrily.  
  
"It doesn't even have anything written on it!" said George. "Totally blank! It's worthless."  
  
"So why don't you return it to Filch then, if it's so worthless," Fred snapped.  
  
"Stupid git," said George. "I should have been the one to go for the file cabinet."  
  
"Sod you!" said Fred furiously.  
  
"No, sod you!" George retorted, and in the next instant the two were on the floor, wrestling and hitting at each other. Fred managed to pin George to the floor and was about to throw a nasty punch.  
  
"What're you two doing?"  
  
Fred and George looked up; Fred's fist was frozen in place for a moment. Angelina Johnson stood over them, her hands on her hips, looking amused, haughty, and very tall. She HAD grown a few more inches in the past month.  
  
"Oh," said Fred, climbing off George. "Hey, Angie. We were just, uh..."  
  
"Fighting," said Angelina. "Honestly. Can't you two idiots work out your differences without pounding each other?"  
  
"Whatever," said George, rolling his eyes and getting up off the floor. He reached out and smacked Fred in the back of the head.  
  
"Hey!" Fred yelled, and did the same to George. Their fighting escalated again. "Boys," said Angelina, rolling her eyes, and she started to sit down on the couch when she noticed the blank parchment.  
  
"What's this?"  
  
Fred and George, once again on the floor (this time George had pinned Fred and was about to throw a punch), looked up. Fred's eyes widened in horror as Angelina picked up the blank parchment. He reared up and caused George to fall backwards off him.  
  
"Nothing!" Fred said quickly, and he snatched the parchment away from Angelina.  
  
"Hey!" she said angrily, snatching it right back, "I was looking at that."  
  
"And I told you it's nothing," said Fred, grabbing for it, but she held it up out of his reach. She was taller than he was.  
  
"Dammit, Angie, gimme that!" said Fred, jumping up to try and grab it out of Angelina's grasp.  
  
"So go on and get it then," said Angelina, giggling, still holding the parchment up out of reach.  
  
"Angie!" said Fred angrily, still jumping up and down trying to get the parchment away from her (when the hell had she gotten so tall?).  
  
George, for his part, wasn't helping. He was laughing, entirely amused by the sight of his twin jumping up and down like a fool trying to get a piece of parchment away from...a GIRL.  
  
"Pathetic, Fred!" George gasped, clutching his stomach.  
  
"Eat dung, George!" yelled Fred, giving up on his jumping routine for the moment.  
  
"Tell me what this is," said Angelina, gripping the parchment.  
  
"We don't KNOW what it is," said Fred, exasperated. "We were trying to figure that out when you barged in on us."  
  
"When I 'barged' in on you two, you were rolling round on the floor like a couple of stupid gits," said Angelina coolly. "What's so special about this thing, anyway?"  
  
"We found it in Filch's office," said Fred sullenly.  
  
"Dammit, Fred, don't go telling HER," said George angrily. "She's a--"  
  
"Girl," said Angelina. "Brilliant observation, George. I'm not going to tell anyone, you know.  
  
"Yeah," said Fred, coming to Angelina's defense, for reasons he wasn't quite sure of. "Angie's cool."  
  
George threw up his hands and sat down dramatically in one of the cushy arm chairs.  
  
"FINE," he said. "Tell her. But if she rats us out--"  
  
"For what?" said Angelina. "Stealing a blank piece of stupid parchment? Filch probably doesn't even know it's gone."  
  
"It's worthless, anyway," said George glumly. "Stupid git, Fred. I shoulda been the one to go for the cabinet."  
  
"Well, I didn't have any Dungbombs in my pockets, did I, because YOU insisted on carrying them!" Fred retorted.  
  
"Whatever!" Angelina shouted. "Look, have you two dimwits bothered to consider that maybe this worthless thing you stole has some sort of Invisible Ink on it or something?"  
  
"What?" said Fred and George together.  
  
Angelina rolled her eyes again. "Honestly, don't you two EVER pay attention in Charms?"  
  
"No," they both said.  
  
"Well, you should," said Angelina in a prissy, girly sort of voice. "This parchment may look like nothing but if that's the case, why would Filch have it in his 'Highly Dangerous' cabinet, eh? My guess is there's something really special about this thing, only Filch can't figure it out, because Filch is a Squib."  
  
"Filch is a Squib?!" cried George, ecstatic.  
  
"No way!" said Fred. "How'd you know that?"  
  
"Everyone knows that," said Angelina. "Anyway, maybe you two should try and figure out how this thing works."  
  
And with that, she handed the parchment back to Fred.  
  
"How're we supposed to do that?" said Fred.  
  
"I dunno," said Angelina. "You DO have a wand, don't you?"  
  
"Yeah," said Fred and George together.  
  
"So use them," said Angelina. "Honestly, do I have to do ALL your thinking for you?"  
  
"Yeah," said Fred, grinning. "Why don't you help us, Angie? You're really smart, you could figure it out for us." He spread the parchment out on the table again.  
  
"No way," said George. "No girls allowed."  
  
"Come on, George, I told you Angie's cool," said Fred.  
  
"I don't care if she's the ruddy Queen of England," said George. "This is OUR thing and there's no girls!"  
  
"Like you won't go and tell Alicia tomorrow all about this," Fred accused.  
  
Angelina giggled as George's ears went red.  
  
"I'm not gonna tell Alicia," George mumbled.  
  
"Liar," said Fred.  
  
"Okay, fine," said George. "Let the GIRL help out." He cast a nasty look at Angelina. "I don't care. Just as long as that stupid piece of junk you grabbed has SOME value. I'm not gonna serve a month's worth of detentions over nothing."  
  
"A month's worth of detentions?" said Angelina. "Over this thing? Wow. That's really pathetic."  
  
"Yeah, yeah," said Fred. "Don't rub it in or anything. Can you help us figure this thing out or not?"  
  
"I guess," said Angelina warily. "But, if I do, you two have to promise me something."  
  
"No," said George.  
  
"What?" said Fred.  
  
Angelina ignored George and looked at Fred.  
  
"Whatever this thing is, you have to let me use it now and again."  
  
"No way," said George.  
  
"I guess," said Fred. "But only if you're with me. You can't use it by yourself."  
  
"Fair enough," said Angelina. "Oh, and you have to solemnly swear that whatever you use this thing for, it's for no good." She grinned.  
  
At that very moment, something strange happened. The parchment on the table rippled and a flash of light--faint and weak but there nonetheless--burst from it.  
  
"Whoa," said Fred, George and Angelina together.  
  
"What'd you do?" Fred asked, glancing at Angelina.  
  
"Dunno," said Angelina. "I...I just said you two had to solemnly swear to use this thing for no good."  
  
The parchment rippled again, and another faint another burst of light, stronger this time, issued from it.  
  
"No way," said Fred, as the three of them crowded round the parchment.  
  
"It was that thing you said, Angie," said George. "That set it off somehow."  
  
Fred stood up sharply. "I've got an idea," he said, and he pulled out his wand.  
  
He pointed it at the parchment and said, "Reveal!"  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
"No good!" said Fred, tapping the parchment again. It fluttered, but otherwise nothing happened.  
  
George pulled out his own wand. "I'm up to no good!" It fluttered again, more strongly.  
  
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," said Fred, tapping the parchment with his wand.  
  
And then, something miraculous happened. The parchment rippled, glowed, and then, thin lines of ink began to snaked all across it, like a spider's web. The lines moved together to form...  
  
"A map!" said Fred, George and Angelina together.  
  
"Of the whole school," said Angelina.  
  
"Look!" said Fred, awed. Tiny dots had begun to appear on the map. On the space marked "Filch's Office" was a small dot marked "Mr. Filch." Next to him was a dot marked "Mrs. Norris." The two dots moved round the office but didn't leave.  
  
Fred felt his heart begin to pound as his eyes skipped over to other sections of the map. A small dot labeled "Professor Snape" was moving through a corridor toward the dungeons. Another dot labeled "Professor Sprout" was moving back and forth in the greenhouses. Still another dot showed Peeves the Poltergeist bouncing round in the library, being chased by a dot labeled "Madam Pince."  
  
"Blimey," said Fred and George together.  
  
And then, at last, the map finished drawing itself, and a title appeared across the top:  
  
Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs  
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers  
are proud to present  
THE MARAUDER'S MAP  
  
"It's...it's..." said George, stunned.  
  
"BRILLIANT," Fred and Angelina said together.  
  
George looked up, his eyes wide as saucers. "We can go anywhere in the castle with this thing."  
  
"And we'll always know where everyone is," said Fred, grinning hugely.  
  
"Which means we won't get caught!" said George.  
  
"Yes!" yelled Fred, and suddenly he and George began to half-dance, half- wrestle. Angelina giggled at them, then looked down at the Marauder's Map.  
  
"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs," said Angelina. "Who are they?"  
  
"Dunno," said Fred. "But whoever they are, they're geniuses!"  
  
George picked up the map and kissed it. "This is the greatest day of my LIFE!" he cried. "A month's worth of detentions? I'd serve a whole year's worth for this!"  
  
"For what?"  
  
The three of them whirled round to see Lee Jordan crawling through the portrait hole.  
  
"Uh," Fred, George and Angelina said at once. They all exchanged looks.  
  
"We might as well tell him," said Fred.  
  
"He IS your best mate," said Angelina.  
  
"Right," said George. "And we can't very well let HER know about it if Lee doesn't."  
  
"What the hell are you three yammering about?" Lee demanded.  
  
"Look," said Fred, gesturing to the map on the table. Lee crossed the room, looked down at the map, and a long moment later he looked up, his face drawn into a huge grin.  
  
"Where'd you get that?"  
  
"Filch's office," Fred bragged.  
  
"Stole it right from under his nose," said George.  
  
"You can't tell anyone about it, Lee," said Fred firmly. "This is strictly between the four of us. Or, well, five, when George tells Alicia."  
  
"Ooh, Alicia," Lee said, in a squeaky, girly sort of voice. "Georgie likes Alicia."  
  
"Shut it," said George, blushing to the roots of his hair.  
  
"Georgie and Alicia, sitting in a tree," Lee began.  
  
George smacked him in the back of the head.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
It was three o'clock in the morning when Fred, George, Angelina and Lee snuck back into the common room. Their "trial run" of using the Marauder's Map was a wild success. With its help, they were able to find the kitchens, get inside, and convince a few house-elves to fix them a late night snack. Alicia had been invited to go along but she'd demurred; she wasn't really into breaking rules. George looked very sullen about her not coming along. Fred rolled his eyes, grateful that his best "girl mate" was Angelina and not Alicia. Angelina was WAY cooler than Alicia.  
  
George and Lee stumbled up to bed, exhausted, leaving Fred and Angelina alone in the common room.  
  
"That was brilliant," Fred whispered, his tummy full of leftover treacle pudding.  
  
"Thanks," said Angelina.  
  
"For what?" said Fred.  
  
"For letting me come along," said Angelina, and even in the dim light of the common room, Fred could see her blushing.  
  
"Of course you came along," said Fred firmly. "You figured out how to use the map, didn't you?"  
  
"Sort of," said Angelina. "Well, it was just luck, wasn't it?"  
  
"Yeah, but...you know," said Fred, suddenly feeling a bit awkward and shy himself. "You're my mate, Angie. Even if you are a girl."  
  
"Gee, thanks," said Angelina. "You're not so bad yourself. For a boy."  
  
"I mean, don't get me wrong," said Fred quickly. "Girls are weird and have cooties and what."  
  
"Boys are stinky and rude and immature," said Angelina.  
  
"But you're okay," said Fred. "For a girl."  
  
"So are you," said Angelina. "For a boy."  
  
They looked at each other for a long moment and didn't say anything. Angelina looked...pretty, Fred noticed. And then he felt his stomach do a weird flip-floppy thing that he knew had nothing to do with the treacle pudding he'd just devoured. He suddenly wanted to run from the room.  
  
"G'night, then," he said abruply, and he patted Angelina quickly on the shoulder.  
  
"G'night," said Angelina, just as abruptly, and she took off for the girl's spiral staircase at a bit of a run. She leapt up the stairs lightly. Fred watched her go, then came to himself and hurried up his own staircase to the first year boys' dormitory.  
  
He crawled into bed, his stomach still a bit uneasy. Perhaps he shouldn't have eaten all that treacle pudding. Except that the treacle pudding wasn't really the problem. He began to wonder if looking at Angelina--who seemed to have gotten prettier as the year went on--was making him sick. He hoped not. He liked hanging out with Angelina, even if she was a girl.  
  
He closed his eyes and fell asleep almost at once. In his dreams he saw a girl with coffee and cream skin, and heard the clicking of beaded, cornrowed hair.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
Author's Note: This is another chapter devoted to the Twins' first year, in case people were wondering about the changed order of chapters. I realized I couldn't possibly have a complete Twin story without including the background into their finding the Marauder's Map. So here it is.  
  
Chapter Three is now second year, Chapter Four is third year, and Chapter Five is fourth year. 


	3. Chapter Three: Quidditch Tryouts

Chapter Three: Quidditch Try-outs  
  
It was a perfect day for Quidditch Tryouts. Warm but not hot. Sunny but not blindingly bright. Perfect.  
  
Fred Weasley adjusted the bindings on his beat up old wrist braces. He was feeling very confident today. There wasn't much in the world he was all that good at, but Quidditch was definitely one of them. He stood up. He was a few inches taller this year and his voice had thankfully changed. Only a few agonizing weeks over the summer of embarrassing cracking and squeaking (which Charlie gave him and George plenty of grief over). Fred's height and voice made him feel older, but his face still had those annoying freckles and his hair was so bright red that he still LOOKED quite young.  
  
"Ready to kick some arse, Twin?" said George, clapping Fred roughly on the back.  
  
Fred grinned. He and George loved being able to swear and not have Mum scream at them.  
  
"I was born ready, Georgie," said Fred, "you stupid wanker." And the two of them gave each other high fives and began to wrestle in their typical fashion, both of them laughing raucously.  
  
"Ow!" George yelled, as Fred got him in a headlock and yanked on his hair. "You prat!" George retaliated by flipping Fred over so that Fred landed on the ground on his side, hard.  
  
"OW!" said Fred. "George, you tosser!" George ignored Fred and leapt onto him and they continued to wrestle, laughing all the while.  
  
"Oi, what is it with boys, anyway?" said a female voice.  
  
Fred looked up to see Angelina Johnson, smartly dressed in her own Quidditch things, all of which looked very new. She was carrying a sleek, brand new Cleansweep Ten--the very latest model--and her curly hair had been cut short, which gave her a distinctly more tomboyish look than she'd had with her cornrows. Fred swallowed his embarrassment. She looked so...new...in everything. Meanwhile he was stuck wearing Charlie's beat up old gear and carrying around an ancient Cleansweep Seven. Fred hated being poor. But he put on a smile and leapt up from the ground, brushing himself off.  
  
"Hey, Angie," said Fred, giving her a playful punch in the arm. "Come to watch brilliance in action?"  
  
"That would be a neat trick, watching myself play Quidditch," said Angelina archly. Fred and George laughed.  
  
"Good one, Angie," said George.  
  
"Don't call me Angie," said Angelina. "I hate that."  
  
"You let Fred call you Angie!" George protested.  
  
"That's 'cause I'm the Special Twin," said Fred. "Wanker."  
  
Fred loved that word.  
  
"Yeah, yeah," said George. "Prat. Let's get out there, shall we?"  
  
He lumbered off, carrying a beat up old Comet 240 in his right hand.  
  
"Good luck, Fred," said Angelina. "I'm rooting for you."  
  
"Yeah," said Fred, grinning. "I'm rooting for you, too."  
  
They trooped outside into the sunlight and saw the Gryffindor captain, Oliver Wood, standing there. He was a burly, muscular fourth year boy and this was his first year as Captain.  
  
"Right," he yelled. "Let's get this going. We have a lot of spots to fill up. Two Chasers and two Beaters, practically a whole bloody team as it is." He unrolled a long piece of parchment and began to read off some names.  
  
"Sloper, Robert and Kirke, Paul, you'll play Beaters first round. Let's have...Johnson, Angelina, and Spinnet, Alicia for Chaser."  
  
Fred grimaced. He'd rather been hoping to play with Angelina. She glanced over at him and gave him a grin; he gave her the thumbs up. George smiled at Alicia Spinnet, who blushed. Good lord, Fred thought. Those two.  
  
Then again, he thought, this way I'll be able to see her fly. He was intrigued to see a girl fly; there were very few girls who played Quidditch professionally.  
  
"Let's head to the middle of the pitch," Wood barked. He dragged the trunk containing all the Quidditch balls behind him and lead the Gryffindor hopefuls out on the pitch. Fred noticed that Angelina looked very nervous, but that her jaw was set with determination. The Gryffindor Seeker, Gerald Prewitt, and the third Chaser, Michael Marchbanks, brought up the rear.  
  
Go get 'em, Angie, he thought. He couldn't hear what Wood was saying now, but he saw the five hopefuls mount their brooms. Prewitt followed suit. Wood released the two Bludgers, the Quaffle and the Snitch, and the try- outs began.  
  
Fred kept his eyes focused on Angelina. She was good. Really good. She scored more than a few goals, had a very good eye for passing and catching, and handled her broom easily. Her very fast, sleek broom. She and the other female Chaser, Alicia Spinnet, in particular seemed to blend together well.  
  
Fred turned his attention to the two Beaters, Kirke and Sloper. They were dreadful. Twice Kirke nearly hit Sloper with a Bludger, and Fred couldn't be sure but it looked like Sloper actually hit HIMSELF with his own bat. Pathetic!  
  
After twenty minutes the try-out ended, and everyone landed and headed back to the side of the pitch.  
  
"Wow," said Fred, giving Angelina another playful punch in the arm. "Bloody good flyer you are, Angie."  
  
"Yeah? Really?" she said, grinning. "I was so nervous up there!"  
  
"Quiet, you two," Wood barked. "Okay, Johnson, you, and Spinnet hang out here. Thank you, Sloper and Kirke, you're free to go."  
  
The two boys nodded, looking rather downcast; they also missed seeing Wood roll his eyes at them.  
  
"Let's have Patil, Parminder and Hooper, Geoffrey for Chaser, and Weasley, Fred and Weasley, George for Beaters."  
  
This was it. Fred glanced at George, who gave him a wink, and the two of them followed Wood and the others out to the pitch.  
  
"Kick butt, Fred," whispered Angelina, and she grinned at him. Fred felt very good all of a sudden.  
  
The try-out commenced again, and Fred rose up into the air on his broom. The old thing was slower than he'd like, but it couldn't be helped, and in any case speed wasn't the most important thing for a Beater, but accuracy and strength. Fred felt strength surging through his arms as he pelted Bludger after Bludger away from the Chasers; he could tell even without looking that George was doing just as well as he was.  
  
Twenty minutes went by in a rush. Fred lost track of everything but what he was doing. He got that way when he played Quidditch, as if the world around him dissolved. Before he knew it, the tryout was over. He returned to the ground, leapt off his broom, and he and George gave each other high fives again.  
  
"Excellent flying, Twin!" George said happily, and they hurried off the pitch.  
  
They met Angelina and Alicia, and waited anxiously as the tryouts went on. Wood was methodical about the whole process and very quick to eliminate those who were obviously bad. Wood also had Angelina, Alicia, Fred and George fly together, which Fred greatly enjoyed. He rather liked the idea of defending Angelina and Alicia (who Fred had noticed was quite pretty herself and who seemed to be getting quite a bit of attention from George).  
  
In the end Fred knew he and George had done well, as had Angelina and Alicia, but he couldn't say whether he had made the team or not. He only knew that if he did, he hoped the other three had as well. It had been a lot of fun flying with them.  
  
"Lists go up tomorrow," said Wood briskly, effectively ending the try-outs. Fred, George, Alicia and Angelina sat on a bench near the stands and began to take off their Quidditch padding.  
  
"Well, I felt pretty good about that," said Alicia nervously. "I guess we just have to wait and see."  
  
"Yeah," said Angelina nervously. "At least there were some real screw-ups who came today, that did a lot for my confidence." She giggled.  
  
"No joke," said Fred. "Did you see that bloke Sloper? I swear he hit himself with his bat."  
  
"That Chaser Parminder Patil was pretty good," said Angelina warily. "Really good, actually."  
  
"Yeah, but Hooper was a whiner, wasn't he?" said Alicia.  
  
The four of them chatted amiably all the way back to the castle and into the Great Hall. Fred only vaguely registered that George had gone ahead with Alicia and he was lagging behind with Angelina.  
  
"You were excellent today," said Angelina. "Really. I hope you make the team." She swatted him on the arm in that playful way of hers. They always dealt with each other like this--a bit roughly. Angie was a bit like a boy in that regard. Rough and tumble, not all obsessed with lip gloss and boys. Fred liked that about her. She was a real mate. Although he had to admit he missed her cornrows. He liked how they'd had beads on the end of them and how they clicked and swung round her head when she turned.  
  
"Thanks," said Fred. "I hope you get on the team, too. We all worked really good together today, didn't we?"  
  
"Yeah," said Angelina. "We did."  
  
She grinned at Fred with those sparkling white teeth of hers, and didn't mind at all when she put her arm round him. He was in a very good mood that lasted until the moment he fell asleep that night. He dreamed of coffee with cream in it, and dark, velvety brown eyes.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Stop pushing, George," Fred grunted, as the Gryffindors fought their way up to the Quidditch team try-outs list.  
  
"I'm in!" shrieked Angelina, and she began to giggle wildly. "Freddie, I made it!" She grabbed him and hugged him and began to twirl wildly round the room.  
  
Now THAT was a girly thing to do, Fred thought. But it wasn't so bad.  
  
"Freddie?" George muttered.  
  
"Shut up," said Fred.  
  
"I got it!" Alicia Spinnet was the next person to give a shriek, and she raced over to George and threw her arms round his neck. "Georgie! I made it!" She ran over to Angelina and the two girls hugged and danced in circles and hugged some more.  
  
"Georgie," said Fred, in a sing-song voice.  
  
"Shut it," said George.  
  
"Dammit," said a voice next to them, and Robert Sloper stumped away, looking morose.  
  
Fred's eyes finally found the piece of parchment posted on the bulletin board. His eyes scanned it and came to rest on two names beneath the "Beater" heading.  
  
He felt his stomach drop and a grin spread across his face.  
  
"We're IN!" he said triumphantly.  
  
"Yes!" said George.  
  
"Yeah!" yelled Fred, and he and George hugged, then quickly broke apart and began to wrestle (because two boys hugging was not cool). Alicia and Angelina joined in, and the four of them wrestled playfully and laughed with glee as the rest of the students watched them. Fred was elated. He'd made the team. His brother had made the team. And his best mate Angelina had made the team. Life was good. 


	4. Chapter Four: The Brother and The Seeker

Chapter Four: The Brother and the Seeker  
  
"Is it true?" Lee Jordan asked. "Harry Potter's really on the train?"  
  
"Yep," said Fred. "George and me helped him with his luggage. Saw his scar up close."  
  
"Freaky," said Lee. "What's he like?"  
  
"Bit shy, really," said George, stowing his trunk. "I don't think he knows how famous he is yet."  
  
"Yeah," said Fred. "I heard he grew up with Muggles, too. Weird."  
  
"He's hanging out with Ron, of all people," said George, rolling his eyes.  
  
The compartment door slid open, and Angelina Johnson strode in. She grinned at Fred and he lit up at once.  
  
"Hey, Angie," he said, getting up and giving her a quick hug and a clap on the shoulder.  
  
"Wotcher, Fred," she said. She stepped back from his embrace and gave George a quick hug.  
  
"Hiya, Angie," said Lee, grinning at her.  
  
"Hey," said Fred. "Only I get to call her Angie. Right, Angie?"  
  
"Right, Freddie," she said, winking at him. Fred blushed and slapped George on the shoulder when George sniggered at him.  
  
"Fine," said Lee. "AngeLINA. You look nice."  
  
Angelina rolled her eyes. She had grown used to Lee's flirtatiousness; he'd had a crush on her for ages. Fred was pleased that she'd never seemed to reciprocate that crush.  
  
"Thanks," said Angelina, sitting down next to Fred. Fred got a good look at her. She DID look nice. She had gotten a bit taller and her hair was done in what had to be thousands of tiny braids that reached just to her chin. Her skin looked a bit darker, more coffee than cream. She'd mentioned in one of her letters that she was going to the West Indies with her parents for part of the summer. Wherever that was. Someplace tropical. Apparently she had relatives over there. Her teeth were perfect as ever and Fred couldn't help but notice that she had grown in a few other areas as well. His neck felt hot and he looked away.  
  
"So, Angelina, this is Butch," Lee was saying, and he opened the cage.  
  
"Cool!" she said. "Can I hold him?"  
  
"Of course," Lee said, winking. Angelina reached into the cage and withdrew the spider, which was the size of a Bludger. It was hairy and horrible looking and had lots of beady little eyes. Angelina set it on her lap and stroked its back with her finger.  
  
"Wow," she said. "Did you use an Engorgement Charm on him?"  
  
Fred couldn't help but be impressed with her. Most girls--and some boys (Ron included)--would freak out about such a huge spider. Fred couldn't imagine too many people willing to hold a spider that big and pet it. But Angelina was pretty much fearless about bugs and spiders and other creepy crawlies. The only aversion she seemed to have was to slugs.  
  
"Yeah," said Lee, "but I'll have to shrink him once we get to school. McGonagall will do her nut if she sees him that big."  
  
"He's definitely impressive," said Angelina, picking the spider up gently and putting him back in the cage.  
  
The compartment door slid open again and Alicia Spinnet strode in, but gave a little scream when she saw the spider in the cage.  
  
"Ew!" she cried.  
  
"Wanna hold him, Alicia?" said Lee, grinning a bit madly.  
  
"Gross!" she cried. "George, that's disgusting, how can you share a compartment with THAT?"  
  
"Come on, Alicia, you're hurting Butch's feelings," said Lee, pouting.  
  
"Are you coming in or not, 'Liss?" George asked.  
  
"I don't know," said Alicia, eyeing Butch warily.  
  
"Come on, " said George, rolling his eyes. "In or out."  
  
"In," she said reluctantly. "But keep that animal away from me, okay? And close that cage, would you?"  
  
"You bet," said Lee, grinning. Alicia came in but the look on her face suggested that she didn't believe Lee for a second. She sat down next to George and pressed her back against the wall, putting as much distance between herself and Butch as possible.  
  
"Did you hear?" she said, her eyes darting to Butch every few seconds. "Harry Potter's on the train."  
  
"Way ahead of you there, Alicia," said Fred. "We saw him. WE even helped him with his luggage."  
  
"Wow," said Angelina. "What's he like, anyway? I heard he lives with Muggles."  
  
"He's sort of quiet," said George. "Seems normal enough. Well, except for the fact that when last we saw him he was hanging round with Ron."  
  
"Yeah, that doesn't say much for his taste in people, does it?" agreed Fred. "But at least he's not hanging out with Percy."  
  
"Ickle Percy the Prefect," George said, scowling.  
  
"We'd better be careful this year," said Lee. "Your brother'll be owling your mum every other day about you."  
  
"Bugger that," said Fred. "I'm not gonna let Percy get in the way of my fun, thank you very much. And anyway, he's got his own set of distractions."  
  
"Oh yeah?" said Angelina, arching her eyebrows.  
  
"Yeah," said George, grinning. "Fred and me aren't positive but we think he fancies that Ravenclaw prefect."  
  
"Penelope Clearwater," said Fred.  
  
"Sounds like a match made in heaven," said Lee dryly. "Oops, Butch is getting hungry."  
  
Lee set the closed cage down and reached into his bag, then pulled from it a tiny, dead gray mouse. He opened the cage and dangled the mouse above it; Butch the Tarantula lifted himself up on his four back legs, gazing at the mouse eagerly with his two dozen or so beady eyes.  
  
"Oh, YUCK!" cried Alicia. "You're not going to feed him THAT."  
  
"Course I am," said Lee. "This is what Butch eats." He dropped the mouse into the cage, and Butch fell on it. Sickening crunching sounds came a moment later.  
  
"Gross," said Alicia, covering her face with her hands.  
  
Angelina giggled. "It's just nature in action. Well, sort of. I mean, spiders don't usually grow that big, do they?"  
  
Fred laughed weakly and felt slightly sick, not that he was going to admit this, especially since Angelina seemed to be completely unfazed by the nasty sounds coming from Butch's cage.  
  
Lee grinned and set Butch's cage on the floor, sliding it under the seats. Fred was grateful; Butch was cool but Fred didn't really want to SEE the remains of dead mouse that were surely now littering the cage.  
  
Just then, the food trolley came by.  
  
"Afternoon, dears," said the kindly witch pushing the cart. "Anything from the trolley?"  
  
Fred immediately forgot about the unpleasantness in Butch's cage and felt his stumble rumble. He bit back a frustrated sigh. He had a little money but he knew he couldn't afford to blow it on sweets. No, he was stuck with his mother's corned beef sandwiches, which she'd hastily prepared that morning.  
  
"Yeah," said Angelina, and she proceeded to buy rather a lot of sweets, including several Cauldron Cakes, Pumpkin Pasties, Chocolate Frogs and a few cartons of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.  
  
"You're going to eat all that?" said George, impressed.  
  
"No," said Angelina. "I'm sharing it with Fred."  
  
Fred's face lit up. "Cool! Thanks, Angie."  
  
"Hey!" said George indignantly. "How come I don't get any? And don't give me that crap about 'you're the Special Twin.'"  
  
"I want some, too!" said Lee, pouting again.  
  
"Get your own, Lee," said Angelina pointedly.  
  
"Fine," said Lee, and he proceeded to buy as many sweets as Angelina. "And I'm eating every last one!" He grinned and shoved a Cauldron Cake greedily into his mouth.  
  
Alicia, meanwhile, purchased a generous, if somewhat smaller amount of sweets.  
  
"I'll share with you, Georgie," she said, smiling sweetly. George flushed bright red and Fred sniggered.  
  
They all paid the witch and she toddled off; for several minutes there was no conversation, only the unwrapping and eating of sweets. Alicia, George and Lee all seemed to congregate together over their sweets, leaving Fred and Angelina to themselves.  
  
Angelina opened a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, and pulled a putrid, pale gray bean out.  
  
"This doesn't look promising," she said, then grinned at Fred. She bit a tiny piece of the bean.  
  
"Ugh!" she cried. "I think that's lint flavoured."  
  
Fred grabbed a handful of beans and popped a sickly green one in his mouth.  
  
"Yuck!" he said at once. "Pea soup. I HATE pea soup."  
  
"Brussels sprouts," said Angelina, screwing up her face at the second bean she'd tasted.  
  
"Strawberry," said Fred happily. "That's more like it. But this one looks disgusting. Here, you eat it." He tossed the bean at her and it bopped her on the nose. She caught it in her hand before it fell to the floor.  
  
"I'm not eating this," she said. "You eat it." And she threw it back at him, where it hit him on the forehead.  
  
"You eat it!" he said, laughing, throwing it back at her, but his aim went wide and the bean popped against the back of an empty seat.  
  
"No, you!" cried Angelina, now giggling madly. She grabbed a handful of beans and chucked them at Fred.  
  
"Hey!" He threw his handful of beans at her.  
  
"FOOD FIGHT!" Lee Jordan screeched, and within seconds the compartment was in chaos, sweets flying in every direction. Alicia got hit in the forehead with a Cauldron Cake; it didn't hurt her at all but it did leave a huge bit of icing smeared in her hair. Chocolate Frogs began to leap out of their boxes; one settled in Fred's hair. Angelina took a Pumpkin Pasty to the shoulder; it landed wetly on her robes and left a gooey mark there. And all the while were shouts and screams and giggles. Butch the Tarantula was in an uproar, snatching at falling bits of sweets with his hairy pincers as they landed just outside his wire cage.  
  
"WHAT IS GOING ON?"  
  
The sound of the new voice caused the food fight to end as abruptly as it started.  
  
Fred, who was now covered in sweets, looked up to see Percy standing in the door, with Penelope Clearwater. Penelope had a look of surprise on her face, but Percy looked positively disgusted.  
  
Fred glanced at George, and they both grinned.  
  
"Hiya, Percy," said Fred jauntily. "Care for some sweets?"  
  
"I've got a Pumpkin Pasty right here," said George. "Or, a bit of one, anyway." He peeled a piece of Pumpkin Pasty from his face and held it out.  
  
"Not even at school yet and you two are acting like--like IDIOTS," said Percy angrily.  
  
"Oh, come ON, Percy, it's just a bit of fun," said Fred, annoyed.  
  
"Your bit of fun has created a mess," Percy snapped. "I'm giving both of you detention."  
  
"WHAT?!" Fred and George yelled, and they both stood up angrily.  
  
"You can't do that!" Fred protested.  
  
"I just did," said Percy hotly.  
  
"That's totally unfair!" said George.  
  
"Fine, detention for EVERYONE!" Percy yelled. "Happy now, Fred, George? But since I'm feeling generous I won't owl Mum about this. In the meantime, clean up this mess. And Lee, shrink that spider down to its normal size."  
  
"You can't boss us--" George began.  
  
"Watch me," said Percy. "Or shall I go ahead and owl mum and let her send you ten Howlers before term even starts?"  
  
Fred opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. It was already his and George's fault that Lee, Alicia and Angelina had detention. He didn't want to get them--especially Angelina--in any more trouble.  
  
"Fine," Fred said instead, through gritted teeth. "Now could you please LEAVE so we can clean up?"  
  
Percy glared at Fred, then at George.  
  
"I'm warning you both," said Percy. "No funny business this year. Mum and Dad have enough to deal with without you two causing problems." He turned to the girl at his side. "Let's go, Penny."  
  
Penelope--who hadn't said a word--merely nodded and followed Percy down the length of the train car.  
  
"Git," said Fred, slamming the compartment door.  
  
"Has he always been like that?" said Angelina.  
  
"Pretty much," said Fred bitterly. "Only now he's worse. Now he's a PREFECT."  
  
George made a gagging noise. "Bloody insufferable wanker," he said angrily.  
  
"Shit," said Fred. "We're sorry. Now you three have detention, too."  
  
"Ah, I don't care, mate," said Lee. "Detention is never really as bad as all that."  
  
"I don't care, either," said Angelina.  
  
George turned to Alicia.  
  
"Well," she said slowly. "I'm not thrilled about it but I WAS participating, so I can't really get upset, can I?"  
  
George grinned. "That's the spirit, 'Liss. You've never had detention before, have you?"  
  
She shook her head.  
  
"Welcome to the club, then," said Fred, grinning. "Everyone has had at least ONE detention during their time at Hogwarts."  
  
"Except Percy," said George. "And look how he's turned out."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
School started out well enough for Fred. He'd served his detention, and another (for helping Lee set Butch loose on a few Slytherins while on the train). He wasn't thrilled about his lesson schedule, either. Snape was as horrible as ever. McGonagall was no less strict (although Fred knew that she secretly was quite fond of the him and George, she never showed them any favoritism or let them get away with anything). The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was a bit of a joke. He was new--it seemed that nobody could hold onto that post for more than a year--and his name was Professor Quirrell. He had a fairly bad stutter, always looked as though he wanted to bolt from a room in terror, and he wore a strange purple turban that smelled faintly of garlic. The rumor was that Quirrell had come into contact with a vampire somewhere, and it had scared him silly. In any case, he wasn't much use as a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.  
  
The biggest problem with this school year, as far as Fred was concerned, was the Quidditch team. Gerald Prewitt and Michael Marchbanks had both finished school last term. It was relatively easy to replace Marchbanks; they found a capable Chaser at the Quidditch try-outs, a second-year girl named Katie Bell. But finding a Seeker was proving to be impossible. Nobody had the right combination of speed, agility, and quickness (not to mention the eye) to find the Snitch. It bothered Fred no end that the Gryffindors hadn't won the Quidditch Cup since Charlie had left. But who could possibly be as good a Seeker as Charlie?  
  
But if Fred was disgruntled about Gryffindor's Quidditch problems, Oliver Wood was both livid and obsessed. He'd played Keeper for the team since his second year--the year after Charlie left--and Gryffindor hadn't yet won the cup. Wood's single obsession was to win the Quidditch Cup before he left school. Now that he was in his fifth year he was starting to panic about it.  
  
The problem of the Seeker was solved, however, in the most unlikely of circumstances. Fred only learned the details later, but one evening when he and George arrived at Quidditch practice (late, because they were serving detention for having jinxed the toilet seats in the boy's bathroom to start singing), Fred got the shock of his life.  
  
Sitting in the Quidditch tent, outfitted in gear and carrying a magnificent Nimbus 2000 broom, was none other than Harry Potter.  
  
It was rare that anything could render Fred (or George) speechless, but seeing Harry Potter--famous Harry Potter, and only a first-year, at that-- sitting there in Gryffindor Quidditch robes and holding the latest Nimbus (the best broom in the world) was one such thing.  
  
"Hey," said Wood briskly. "This is our new Seeker. I think you know him by now."  
  
"H-hi," said Harry. He looked very nervous, and very small and skinny. Fred wondered just how this kid planned to stay on his broom at all--he couldn't weigh more than 80 pounds. But Fred smiled at Harry nonetheless and sat down as Wood continued to drone on about strategy.  
  
After just two minutes of this Fred tuned out. He never did pay much attention to Wood's painfully long strategy sessions. What, after all, did he need to pay attention for? He was a Beater; his job was to make sure Bludgers didn't knock his teammates off their brooms. Strategy was for the Chasers.  
  
Fred's eyes wandered over to Angelina. She looked bored, but she appeared to be making an effort to absorb what Wood was saying. She turned and glanced at Fred and smiled. He smiled back. He let his eyes rest on her as Wood yammered on about Sloth Grip Rolls. Fred liked looking at Angelina.  
  
"All right, let's go," said Wood sharply. His voice snapped Fred out of his reverie, and he and George followed the rest of the team out of the tent and onto the pitch. Angelina came to Fred's side.  
  
"Can you believe it?" she whispered. "Harry Potter, a Seeker?"  
  
"Yeah, how'd that happen, anyway?" Fred whispered back.  
  
"McGonagall," said Angelina. "Apparently she saw him flying during the first-years flying lesson. Said he was a natural. Better than Charlie, even."  
  
"Nobody's better than Charlie," Fred said defensively.  
  
"I'm just saying what SHE said," said Angelina. "I know Charlie's the best."  
  
She grinned at Fred and he grinned back. A loyal friend, was Angelina.  
  
But once Fred was in the air and saw Harry fly, he realized McGonagall had a point. Harry flew astoundingly well; he had a natural affinity for his broom, he wasn't afraid to try risky moves, and he had fantastic reflexes.  
  
True, Harry's broom was far better than Charlie's, so he was able to fly faster. Then there was the fact that Harry was small; it gave him an advantage in terms of quickness, agility, and in making sharp and difficult turns. Charlie had overcome his own rather large build and his old broom and had become something of a legend at the school.  
  
Still, Fred could tell Harry was, indeed, a natural. All the more incredible considering the kid hadn't even flown at all until he came to Hogwarts (this Fred had learned from Ron).  
  
The practice ended three hours later; all of them were sweaty and exhausted, but Fred had to admit he was impressed, not only with Harry's flying but with the cohesiveness of the team as a whole. They might just win the bloody Cup this year after all. 


	5. Chapter Five: The Chamber of Secrets

Chapter Five: The Chamber of Secrets  
  
Fred felt his stomach drop.  
  
George sat next to him, white faced. Percy stood stiffly behind them both. Ron was in a corner of Professor McGonagall's office; his eyes were dry but he kept running his hands through his hair. Harry was back in the common room, waiting, no doubt, for Ron to return. Poor Hermione was laid up in the hospital wing, Petrified.  
  
Things had gone from bad to worse. And now Ginny...their only sister...the youngest...the baby...  
  
The monster had spirited Ginny down to the Chamber itself. Fred felt sick. If she wasn't dead, she would be soon.  
  
"We are sending all the other students home tomorrow," said McGonagall, in a hard, mechanical sort of voice that shook just slightly. "In the meantime Gilderoy Lockhart has agreed to go into the Chamber and attempt to rescue Ginny."  
  
"What?" said George, appalled.  
  
"Lockhart?" Fred repeated, equally horrified. "That bloody useless git?"  
  
"Fred!" Percy snapped.  
  
"Oh, come ON, Percy, even you have to admit Lockhart is useless!" said Fred angrily.  
  
"Boys!" said McGonagall sharply. They shut up. "I understand this is very difficult for you all. But Professor Lockhart is aware of his responsibilities as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He will do what is required of him."  
  
"Can he really save her, Professor?" Percy asked hopefully.  
  
McGonagall paused. "He will...try."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The silence in the common room reminded Fred of a tomb. Never before had the place been so crowded and so quiet at the same time. Tomorrow, everyone would be going home. The school itself would almost certainly close. And Ginny...  
  
Fred blinked. His eyes were burning. He felt awful. It was not simply due to the fact that Ginny had been taken, that it was Ginny down there in the Chamber, probably dead, or close to it.  
  
It was that he and George had been teasing her, again, just before she'd disappeared. Teasing her mercilessly for her crush on Ron's best friend. Teasing her so relentlessly that they'd made her cry.  
  
Fred felt sick again. He looked at George, who also looked a bit green and very miserable. Fred couldn't stand the silence anymore. He got up and went upstairs to the fourth-year boys' dormitory, slammed into the room, threw himself on his four-poster, and shut the drapes. His eyes were burning, and he had a lump in his throat.  
  
Don't cry, you stupid prat, he thought. Except that he rather felt like crying. It was a very alien feeling and he didn't like it at all.  
  
Ginny. Was she alive or dead? If she was alive, did she KNOW she would probably be dead soon? Fred couldn't decide which was worse. All he DID know was that the last words he'd said to her had been, in hindsight, practically cruel.  
  
Fred ought to have noticed how different Ginny was this year. It wasn't just her crush on Harry. He had never really seen her with any...friends. She'd been so quiet and secretive. And what had he, her big brother done? Instead of helping her out he'd teased her and made fun of her. He and George both.  
  
Fred tried to comfort himself by saying Ron and Percy hadn't been much better. True, they hadn't exactly gone out of their way to be friendly to Ginny. But somehow, merely neglecting the youngest Weasley child seemed mild compared to what Fred and George had done. It was only now that Fred realized how very insecure his little sister was, and how far he'd gone to help her feel badly about herself. He felt his eyes burn again, and he blinked impatiently. He lay there for what seemed like a long time, trying not to give in to the stinging of his eyes or the lump in his throat.  
  
The door to the dormitory opened. Fred opened the drapes to his four poster to see his twin come in, looking wretched.  
  
"Hey," said George.  
  
"Hey," said Fred.  
  
They looked at each other for a long moment, and each understood the other, and there was nothing left for either of them to say. They could hardly accuse each other of being "worse" about the teasing, as they'd both engaged in it in equal measure. All they could do now was wait for the imminent news that their innocent, shy little sister was dead.  
  
George went to his own four-poster and lay down, drawing the curtains. Fred stared at his twin's bed for a moment. The silence was oppressive. He couldn't stand it. He got up.  
  
"I'm going," he said, for no particular reason. George said nothing. On a whim, Fred grabbed the Marauder's Map. He needed to be alone, and the Map would give him access to someplace where he could BE alone and not get caught by a teacher.  
  
He headed back downstairs into the common room, which was now largely empty. He vaguely noticed that Ron and Harry were nowhere to be seen. Percy, too, seemed to have turned in. He didn't pause to think about this, though. He had to get out. He had to get away.  
  
He climbed through the portrait hole. The few students left behind said nothing at Fred's flagrant display of rule-breaking. They were too shell- shocked. Fred peered carefully down the corridor from the portrait hole, and was about to climb out when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He whirled round to see Angelina Johnson.  
  
"Hey," she said. "Where are you going?"  
  
"Leave me alone, Angie," he said, annoyed.  
  
"Fred," she said, giving him what Fred called her Knowing Look. He couldn't put much past Angelina, that was for sure.  
  
She smiled sadly at him then, and Fred felt that horrible lump in his throat return. She looked very pretty just then--her hair was long now, in lovely long braids--and he suddenly realized he didn't want to be alone after all.  
  
"Just...follow me," said Fred, speaking through the lump in his throat with some difficulty.  
  
He turned and climbed out of the portrait hole, Angelina right behind him.  
  
"Where to?" said Angelina.  
  
Fred studied the Marauder's Map. His eyes screwed up for a moment when he saw two dots, labeled "Harry Potter" and "Ronald Weasley" moving resolutely towards Gilderoy Lockhart's office (Lockhart was inside, moving around). What on earth could Harry and Ron be doing? But he put that aside. Whatever it was they were up to, Fred didn't care. He simply had to get away from the common room, from the oppressive feeling of doom all round him.  
  
"Astronomy Tower," he said, pointing to it. Professor Sinistra was in her office.  
  
"Okay," said Angelina, and the two of them set off. They had to hide several times, in corners and alcoves, to avoid patrolling teachers, but the Map made them as good as invisible.  
  
It took them several minutes to reach the Astronomy Tower. Fred double checked to make sure that everything was all clear. He noticed now that Harry, Ron and Lockhart had left Lockhart's office and were standing round in...a girl's lavatory. That was decidedly odd. But Fred pushed that aside again. For a split second he thought it would be amusing to make fun of Ron tomorrow for hanging round in a girl's bathroom, but then he remembered that tomorrow they would be going home. And that Ginny was almost certainly dead.  
  
Fred climbed the ladder up to the Astronomy Tower and emerged through the trapdoor up top. Dozens of telescopes lined the parapet, covered with heavy drapes to protect them from the elements. It was a clear night, with a bright moon. The grounds were sharply visible. Fred looked across the grounds at the lake, which looked eerily beautiful. Occasional bubbles rose to the surface, indicating the sleeping Giant Squid. Fred's eyes traveled to the trees of the Forbidden Forest, then to Hagrid's hut, which was dark and empty. Everything was quiet and peaceful and belied the horrors inside the castle. Fred felt slightly sick again.  
  
"You okay, Fred?"  
  
Fred turned round to see Angelina watching him anxiously. He swallowed. She looked very pretty. She'd grown even taller. Still taller than he was. She couldn't seem to stop growing, in height or in...other areas. Fred had noticed that as well. She didn't look like a little girl anymore at all. She now had...breasts. Lovely ones, too. Well, as far as Fred could tell, anyway, seeing as he'd never actually SEEN them, except through a school uniform (which hid quite a lot, but not Angelina's lovely set) or Muggle clothes that Angelina wore on Hogsmeade weekends. Her hips weren't flat and skinny anymore, they were rounded and looked...soft. She looked soft. Her hair was different, too. Long braids this year, that she usually wore tied back in a ribbon. Only now they were loose and hanging down her back. Looking at her normally made him feel better about things. Not tonight.  
  
"No," he said, that awful lump pressing in his throat. He turned away and felt his knees go weak.  
  
Don't lose it, you git, he thought furiously. The LAST thing he wanted to do was cry in front of Angelina. My god, crying in front of ANYONE was bad enough. But a GIRL? Entirely unacceptable. Entirely unmanly.  
  
He moved to the wide parapet wall and sat down.  
  
"Fred..." Angelina said uncertainly. She crossed to him and sat down next to him.  
  
"I keep thinking," said Fred, after a long moment, "how mean George and I were to her. Right before...it happened."  
  
"You couldn't have known," said Angelina.  
  
"I should have paid attention, Angie," said Fred miserably. "She's my little sister. I'm supposed to look out for her. We're all supposed to. But we didn't. And now she's...she's..."  
  
Fred couldn't say it. Dead, he thought. Or if not dead, she will be soon. And she'll die knowing that her brothers were mean to her and ignored her instead of being there for her.  
  
And even now I can't do anything for her, he thought. My little sister. I don't know where the stupid Chamber is. I can't fight that monster thing that's got her.  
  
The guilt pressed on him and made his chest hurt.  
  
"It's not your fault," said Angelina softly, and she put an arm round his shoulders.  
  
Fred shuddered at the contact and felt the lump in his throat rising, pressing. His eyes burned even worse. He felt incredibly foolish. He felt utterly hopeless. Useless. Wretched.  
  
"Angie," he said, in a choked sort of voice.  
  
"It's okay, Fred," she said. "I won't tell anyone."  
  
Fred cried.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Six hours later the impromptu, middle-of-the-night feast was in full swing.  
  
Fred was in a bit of a daze. He'd gone from being completely miserable to being completely ecstatic in a matter of hours. Harry and Ron (well, mostly Harry) had rescued Ginny from certain death, and Ginny was alive and well. Hagrid was back, having been released from Azkaban. That stupid git Lockhart was on his way to St. Mungo's, having wiped out his own memory trying to cast a spell from Ron's broken wand. Everyone who'd been Petrified was back to normal. The tables were heaped high with all of Fred's favorite foods. He sat next to Angie, who grinned very prettily and every now and again gave him an affection punch in the arm. And if that weren't enough, Dumbledore had cancelled all the end-of-year exams.  
  
Angelina turned and was pulled into an enthusiastic conversation with Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell. They hadn't won the Quidditch Cup this year, owing to the cancellation of their last match against Hufflepuff, but all three girls agreed with Wood that the Cup might as well be theirs, and that it was in the bag next year.  
  
Fred watched Angelina for a while, feeling better than he ever thought possible. A part of him still felt a bit stupid, crying on her shoulder like he had before, but mostly, he felt better. Angelina hadn't made fun of him, or tried to give him advice or try to cheer him up. She'd just put her arm round him and let him cry. And she'd never tell anyone, and knowing her, she'd never even mention it again. Because she'd know that would embarrass him. That was just the kind of friend she was. Loyal and true to the end. Angelina turned and smiled at him.  
  
"What?" she asked. "What're you staring at?"  
  
"You," he said, grinning. "My best mate in the world. Thanks, Angie." He tried to put everything he felt into those last two words.  
  
"Don't mention it," she said.  
  
"I thought I was your best mate!" Lee Jordan said huffily.  
  
"You, too, Lee," said Fred, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Your sister okay, then?" said Lee, stuffing his face full of mashed potatoes.  
  
"Yeah," said Fred. "Scared to death, poor kid. But she didn't get hurt."  
  
It was a miracle, really. Ginny had cried hysterically for a while, and she'd been pale and her hair was stained with black ink (for reasons Fred didn't know) but after a time she'd calmed down and let her brothers hug her in turn. Fred vowed from the moment he saw her never to tease her again.  
  
"I can't believe your brother and that Potter kid got into the Chamber," said Wood.  
  
"If it weren't for them, we'd have to take exams," said George, grinning.  
  
"It almost makes up for not getting the Quidditch Cup," said Wood wistfully.  
  
"What are you complaining about?" said Katie Bell. "We won the House Cup by a couple hundred points."  
  
"Yeah," said Fred, grinning sweetly at the table of Slytherins, flashing a particularly cheeky grin at the Slytherin Quidditch captain, Marcus Flint, and their Seeker, that insufferable rich brat Draco Malfoy. They both scowled.  
  
"Too bad for them," said Lee. "Looks like the Muggle-borns are here to stay."  
  
"Damn right," said Fred, grinning over at Hermione Granger, who was chatting rapidly with Ron and Harry; Ron and Harry were rolling their eyes affectionately at her and pretending to cover their ears.  
  
"Well," said Fred abruptly. "I think I'll go and say g'night to my baby sister. Coming, Twin?"  
  
"Yeah," said George, grinning at Alicia.  
  
"See you later, then, Fred?" said Angelina.  
  
"You bet," said Fred, chucking her lightly on the chin. Fred wrapped up a few pastries in some napkins, and he and George left the Great Hall.  
  
They didn't talk for a few minutes as they made their way to the hospital wing, but at last George broke the silence.  
  
"Do you think...she's okay?"  
  
Fred looked at George. "I hope so," he said. "She won't talk about what happened down there."  
  
"Maybe we could wring it out of Ron or Harry," George suggested.  
  
Fred considered, then shook his head.  
  
George nodded. "Yeah, you're right. I don't feel quite so...right...about teasing her anymore. Do you?"  
  
"No," said Fred. "I mean, we'll have to tease her a LITTLE. She's the kid sister. But...nothing like this year."  
  
"And no more ignoring her," said George.  
  
"Right," said Fred.  
  
"I mean, who else is gonna look out for her?" said George. "Not Percy. He's too caught up in his prefect crap."  
  
"And Ron," said Fred, scoffing. "How pathetic. I mean, ickle Ronnie, look out for Ginny?"  
  
"So it's up to us, yeah?" said George. "Blimey, you think...you don't think we have to do what Mum said, do you? Set a good example and all? Be...MATURE?"  
  
Fred halted outside the hospital wing and peered through the door, to see their parents sitting next to Ginny's bed. Ginny was fast asleep.  
  
Fred grinned. "Nah," said Fred. "Ginny wouldn't buy that bit from us if we tried. We can just...be ourselves. But better, yeah?"  
  
George looked very relieved. "Yeah."  
  
"Let's go see our sis, shall we?" said Fred, looking at Ginny fondly.  
  
"Fred, you don't think Mum'll--"  
  
"Nah," said Fred. "Mum's not gonna wake up her baby by yelling at us. We'll probably get it good when we get home, though. There WAS that incident with the toilets this year."  
  
"There's an incident with toilets every year," said George, grinning. "Mum ought to be used to it by now."  
  
"Come on, George," said Fred, "if Mum stopped yelling at us, she wouldn't be...Mum."  
  
"True," said George. "Well, we'll deal with it when we get home, shall we?"  
  
Fred grinned and together they entered the hospital wing to visit their sister. 


	6. Chapter Six: Mistletoe and Other Complic...

Chapter Six: Mistletoe and Other Complications  
  
"I can't believe you actually gave it to him," said Angelina, her eyes wide with shock.  
  
She and Fred were wandering aimlessly through Hogsmeade Village, thoroughly enjoying their pre-Christmas visit, despite the cold.  
  
"Yeah, well, George and I didn't need it anymore," said Fred non-chalantly. "I mean, we memorized that thing. And anyway, you and I both know the poor kid needs a break. After all his stuff with the Dementors..."  
  
"No kidding," said Angelina. "I thought Wood was going to hurt himself after that first match. But Harry seems to be coming round pretty well."  
  
"I'll say," said Fred heartily. "I think Wood is right, Angie. The cup really IS in the bag this year."  
  
"It had better be," said Angelina, "or Wood will off himself and Harry will be scarred for life." She shivered. "I'm freezing. Let's get a drink, yeah?"  
  
"Three Broomsticks?" said Fred.  
  
"Nah," said Angelina. "A butterbeer'll put me to sleep at this point. How 'bout coffee at Madam Puddifoot's?"  
  
"Oh, Angie, THAT place?" said Fred, groaning. "It's just so...frilly."  
  
"I know," said Angelina, rolling her eyes. "But it's the only place to get decent coffee. Come ON, Fred."  
  
"I am way, way too good to you, Angie."  
  
The two of them trooped over to Madam Puddifoot's.  
  
It was, indeed, a frilly sort of place. Bows and buntings were strewn everywhere, wrapped round chairs and tables. Over each little table (which each only sat two) was a fat cherub wearing a Santa Claus hat and throwing red and green confetti on everyone and everything.  
  
The place was full to bursting with couples, most of them canoodling rather enthusiastically over their tables.  
  
"You owe me for this," said Fred. "This place is ghastly."  
  
"Isn't it?" said Angelina, grinning. "Let's go over there. Puddifoot forgot to get a cherub for that table."  
  
"Thank god for small favors," said Fred dryly, and they sat down in a corner of the shop. The place was warm and snug, even if it did look like a lurid, gaudy gingerbread house. A short, fat witch waddled over.  
  
"Happy Christmas, dears!" she said, her pink jowls shaking as she spoke. "What'll it be?"  
  
"A coffee, a hot chocolate, and," Angelina said, grinning at Fred, "two pieces of chocolate cake."  
  
"Excellent," said Fred gratefully. "You're the best, Ange."  
  
"Very good, dears," said the witch, and she waddled away.  
  
"So Fred, what are your plans this year?" said Angelina. "For Christmas."  
  
"We're staying here again," said Fred. "Percy is bringing Penelope home for Christmas to meet Mum and Dad 'formally' and I don't think I can stomach being in the company of those two--Percy and Penelope, I mean--for more than about two seconds before I feel the overwhelming urge to puke."  
  
"They are a bit nauseating," Angelina agreed. "Think they'll get married?"  
  
"Are you kidding?" said Fred. "Head Boy and Head Girl? It's practically written in the stars. And you know what that means. More Percys to pollute the world."  
  
"Here you are, dears," said the fat witch, as she laid out their hot drinks and warm chocolate cake. "Enjoy."  
  
Angelina handed the witch some money before Fred could even reach into his robes for anything. The witch took it and gave a coolly appraising look at Fred. Fred blushed to the roots of his hair as the witch waddled off.  
  
"Uh," he said, feeling very stupid, "sorry. I'll, uh, pay you back."  
  
"Forget it," said Angelina, holding up her hands. "We're mates, yeah?"  
  
"I know," said Fred glumly. "I just...hate...you know."  
  
Angelina nodded and took a sip of her coffee. Fred sat motionless, feeling very foolish. He hated being poor!  
  
"Uh, Fred, your hot chocolate'll get cold if you don't drink it," said Angelina gently.  
  
Fred grinned up at her weakly and took a sip of the cocoa.  
  
"Good stuff," he said, forcing himself to smile.  
  
Angelina grinned and started to take another sip of her coffee.  
  
"Damn!" she said angrily, and she looked up.  
  
"What?" Fred looked up as well. A cherub was hovering above them, dangling a fat sprig of mistletoe over them.  
  
"So much for my coffee," said Angelina sourly, picking a piece of the plant from her drink.  
  
"You can still drink that, can't you?" said Fred.  
  
"No," said Angelina, glumly. "Mistletoe's poisonous. Who knows what leeched out of that leaf when it hit my coffee. Guess I'll have to get another one."  
  
"Don't do that," said Fred. "We can share." He slid his hot cocoa over to her. She smiled.  
  
"Thanks," she said. "How romantic."  
  
Fred rolled his eyes. "What are you on about now, girl?"  
  
"Here I am sharing hot chocolate with a handsome boy and we're sitting under mistletoe," said Angelina, batting her eyes dramatically. "Isn't it just...ROMANTIC?"  
  
Fred blushed. "You think I'm handsome?"  
  
Angelina giggled. "Sure you are. Why, don't you think I'm pretty?"  
  
"Are you kidding?" said Fred. "You're gorgeous."  
  
"Why, thank you," said Angelina, in a very modest sort of voice.  
  
Fred took a sip of the hot chocolate. He was feeling very warm now, and he was guessing it had little to do with the drink or the warmth of the tea shop. He and Angelina had become very close friends since last year, when she'd been there for him during that horrible ordeal with Ginny. Over the summer they'd written one another frequently--much to the shock of everyone in the family, as Fred never wrote anything unless he absolutely had to. But now that they were in their fifth year, Fred had noticed just how flirtatious his friendship with Angelina had become.  
  
Fred wouldn't lie to himself. He was attracted to Angelina. He didn't quite see how any bloke COULDN'T be attracted to her. She was, indeed gorgeous. Smart. Tough. Funny. A genius Quidditch player. Who could resist her?  
  
I can, thought Fred. And he had. This wasn't to say that he hadn't often gone to sleep with visions of her beautiful coffee and cream skin and her luscious, full mouth dancing in his brain. It wasn't to say he had on several occasions been tempted to cross that seemingly invisible line of friendship that they'd always had between them. But he never gave in to temptation.  
  
As his best girl mate in the world, he'd never dream of pursuing her. That would be the downfall of the great thing they had. Angelina seemed to feel the same way. As it was, they both flirted with one another to let off steam, but actively sought attention from the opposite sex in other people.  
  
Fred grinned wickedly at Angelina.  
  
"You want romantic," he said, "why aren't you running round with Roger Davies?"  
  
Angelina blushed and looked away. "Honestly, Fred."  
  
"Come on, Angie, you've only blabbered about him to me, what, a hundred times," said Fred, giving her arm a playful punch.  
  
"He's barely even looked at me," said Angelina, taking a sip of cocoa.  
  
"Then he's blind AND stupid," said Fred.  
  
"Thanks, I think," said Angelina. "And what about you? Any luck with what's her name? That blonde Ravenclaw? Marina Edgecombe?"  
  
"Marietta," said Fred, drawing out her name like a chant. "Lovely Marietta. You know, I don't think Miss Edgecombe has quite caught on to my charms yet."  
  
"Then SHE'S blind and stupid," said Angelina, grinning.  
  
"How is it, Angie, that two such fabulous people as ourselves go so...unnoticed?"  
  
"Unloved," said Angelina, taking up the theme and adding a dramatic note to it, even as she cut herself a small bite of cake with a flourish.  
  
"Unappreciated," said Fred, shaking his head and taking his own bite of cake. "Damn, that's good cake."  
  
"Mmm," said Angelina, taking a bite of the cake and chewing it decadently. "Heaven."  
  
"Knock it off, Angie," said Fred, swatting her playfully. "Eating your cake like that."  
  
"Is it turning you on?" said Angelina, smiling wickedly.  
  
"Of course," said Fred.  
  
"Pig," said Angelina.  
  
"Tease," said Fred.  
  
At this another piece of mistletoe floated gently down and landed on the table. Fred looked up in exasperation.  
  
"Dammit," he said. "That cherub is STILL here? Oi, you! Fat little baby! Go away!"  
  
The cherub smiled beatifically and waved the mistletoe.  
  
"Go on, then!" said Angelina, waving a hand at him.  
  
"He won't go, dears!" the fat witch called. "Not unless you kiss first!"  
  
"What?" said Fred.  
  
"You mean--" Angelina began.  
  
"I'm afraid so, dears," said the witch, smiling. "It's the rule. Under the mistletoe and all."  
  
"Bloody hell," said Angelina under her breath.  
  
"Damn," said Fred.  
  
"Maybe we should just go," said Angelina.  
  
"No way," said Fred. "I want to have my cake and eat it, too, thank you."  
  
"So, what?" said Angelina. "We just kiss and this stupid infant goes away?"  
  
"I guess," said Fred.  
  
"Won't that be weird, you and me...kissing?"  
  
"You're not planning on sticking your tongue in my mouth are you, Johnson?" said Fred, grinning mischievously.  
  
"You wish, Weasley," countered Angelina.  
  
They looked at each other for a moment, and another piece of mistletoe floated down and landed on Fred's hair.  
  
"Bloody hell," said Fred.  
  
"Let's get this over with," said Angelina.  
  
Fred nodded, and the two of them leaned over their table and kissed.  
  
It was over in a split second. Just the briefest touch of the lips. A peck. Nothing behind it but purely platonic intentions. But as Fred sat down again his lips were tingling. Wow. He'd never felt that when kissing a girl before. And he'd kissed...a few.  
  
"All right, then," said Angelina. They looked up to see that the stupid cherub was still there.  
  
"Hey, idiot!" Fred called to the cherub. "We kissed. You can go now."  
  
"Oh, he won't go over THAT," said a girl at the table next to them. Fred and Angelina turned to see a boy and a girl sitting very close together at the table. The girl was unfamiliar but the boy was Cedric Diggory, a Hufflepuff.  
  
"What do you mean?" said Angelina.  
  
"You have to REALLY kiss," said Cedric, grinning. "Like this."  
  
And he leaned over and demonstrated a Real Kiss. Fred swallowed. That was definitely more than a friendly sort of kiss.  
  
"Let's just go," he said to Angelina under his breath.  
  
"Right." They started to get up, but the cherub began flying in circles round them, loosening more mistletoe as he went. They sat down again.  
  
"You'd better do it," said Cedric. "Or that little bugger'll never leave you alone."  
  
"Bloody hell," said Angelina and Fred together.  
  
"Look, it's just a kiss," said Angelina after a moment.  
  
"Right," said Fred.  
  
"We've both kissed other people, yeah?" said Angelina. "So it's not like this is our first kiss ever or something."  
  
"Who have you kissed?" said Fred.  
  
She gave him The Look.  
  
"Oh," said Fred. "Right. You'll tell me later."  
  
"So," said Angelina. "Do you...want to...you know."  
  
"I guess," said Fred. "I mean, that is, if you don't think it'll be...weird."  
  
"I think we can handle it," said Angelina. "Can't we?"  
  
"Yeah," said Fred, not entirely believing it.  
  
Fred and Angelina looked at one another, then Angelina gave a sort of shrug. Fred shrugged back. They leaned close together, and just before Fred kissed her, Angelina licked her lips. Fred felt something stir in his...lower regions, but before he could process that completely, Angelina's lips were against his.  
  
The tingle that he'd felt in his lips from that first quick peck was nothing compared to the tingle he felt now, a tingle that was spreading through his whole body. For a brief moment neither one of them moved, but then Angelina seemed to lean in a bit more and shift her head, just slightly, and Fred seemed to forget he was kissing his best girl mate ever and that he shouldn't be kissing her, and he kissed her. Their mouths opened of their own accord and Fred felt a surge in his trousers as their tongues brushed together. Her lips were as soft as...he didn't know what, but they were damn soft. Her mouth tasted like chocolate. Suddenly he was no longer in a tacky tea shop full of people. He was Somewhere Else, alone with Angelina, kissing. Like he'd never kissed anyone before.  
  
She broke away abruptly.  
  
"That...seemed to work," she said quickly. Her face was flushed and her lips were slightly pink. Fred blinked at looked up. The cherub was gone. Fred's eyes wandered over to the table next to theirs. Cedric Diggory was grinning at them triumphantly.  
  
"See what I mean?" he said.  
  
"Yeah," said Fred, feeling his face get hot. His trousers were pinching him rather badly. "Right."  
  
He stood up, grateful that his robes hid certain things. Angelina didn't look at him but said, "Let's go, yeah?" And she hurried out of the tea shop, bumping into more than a few tables on the way out.  
  
Fred hurried after her, in a bit of a daze. He was grateful to get outside, to feel the sting of the sharp cold air hit him like a reviving sort of slap. His brain was spinning.  
  
He looked up and saw Angelina over by a tree, facing away from him. She looked very tense.  
  
"Uh, Angie?" He approached her tentatively. "You okay?"  
  
She turned to him. "Fine," she said, but her voice was tight.  
  
"Look, uh, about what happened in there--"  
  
"It's okay, Fred," she said.  
  
"No, I shouldn't have--"  
  
"I was there, too--"  
  
"We're mates--"  
  
"Best mates--"  
  
"I just got a bit carried away--"  
  
"Me, too," said Angie.  
  
"Uh, does this...I mean, this isn't going to be weird now, is it?" said Fred. "I mean, with you and me?"  
  
Angelina looked at him. "I...I dunno. I don't want things to be weird."  
  
"Me, neither," Fred said fervently. He hated himself at that moment. He'd really, REALLY liked kissing her. But not if it was going to cost him their friendship.  
  
"Look, Fred," said Angelina slowly. "You and me are best mates and, well, I'm not going to lie and say I haven't thought about you in...in a different way. You know."  
  
"Yeah," said Fred. "I mean, uh, I've thought about that...about you...too. In a different way."  
  
"Well, I mean, we're growing up, right?" said Angelina. "Hormones and all that?" She laughed nervously.  
  
"Damn those silly hormones," said Fred, laughing as well--but it was just as forced.  
  
"I just don't want to risk losing--"  
  
"Our friendship," said Fred. "Me, neither."  
  
"Okay," said Angelina. "So, uh, are we okay?"  
  
"Yeah," said Fred. "You know, I think...I think we are."  
  
Except that Fred didn't feel all that okay. He felt as though the rug of his very existence had been yanked out from under him. How many times had he stepped away from crossing the line with Angelina? Had he not just been thinking of that very thing only minutes before that stupid cherub got in the way? And here he had let himself kiss her--REALLY kiss her--over that same stupid cherub?  
  
"Are you sure?" said Angelina anxiously, clearly reading his uncertain expression.  
  
"I'm sure," said Fred firmly, forcing himself to believe it. In a way, he did.  
  
"So, uh, no more kissing then?" said Angelina. "I mean, between you and me."  
  
"Right," said Fred. "But as far as snogging other people, that's good."  
  
"Absolutely," said Angelina.  
  
"Great," said Fred, feeling a bit better about things. Okay, they'd crossed that unexpected hurdle. They'd kissed--a REAL kiss--and had survived it with their friendship intact. They could handle it.  
  
As if to prove it to himself, Fred reverted to his old flirtatiousness.  
  
"So, was I any good?" he asked, grinning, and without realizing it they started walking back toward the center of town.  
  
"Good?" said Angelina absently. "At what? Kissing?"  
  
"No, Potions," said Fred. "Yes, kissing."  
  
"Not bad," said Angelina. "Pretty good, actually."  
  
Fred grinned.  
  
"Well?" said Angelina. "What about me?"  
  
"Oh, right," said Fred, grinning even more broadly. Angelina swatted him on the back of the head.  
  
He laughed. "You're great," said Fred. "Honest. Davies won't know what hit him."  
  
"Thanks," said Angelina. "Now if only Roger Davies would get a clue and see how marvelous I am."  
  
"And if only Marietta would see how fantastic I am," said Fred wistfully.  
  
They walked on in companionable silence for a moment, when Fred remembered something.  
  
"Hey," he said. "You told me you'd kissed someone before. Who?"  
  
Angelina blushed. "Oh," she said. "Well, it was, uh...Lee Jordan. Actually."  
  
Fred stopped in his tracks. Her words hit him like a ton of bricks to the gut.  
  
"You...snogged Lee?"  
  
Angelina looked away. She was blushing and looked horribly embarrassed.  
  
"Once," said Angelina. "After, uh, after that first Quidditch match. With Hufflepuff. The one we lost."  
  
"I don't want details, Angie!" said Fred, suddenly angry and not quite understanding why.  
  
"Well, you asked!" said Angelina defensively.  
  
"I didn't expect your answer to be my best mate!" said Fred, feeling sick even thinking about it. She could kiss any bloke in the school. Except Lee. Fred didn't know why this bothered him so much. He just knew that it did.  
  
"What's it to you?" said Angelina hotly.  
  
"He's my best mate!" Fred repeated.  
  
"I'm your best mate, too!" said Angelina.  
  
"That's different!" said Fred.  
  
"Oh, for fuck's SAKE, Fred, it didn't mean anything, okay?" said Angelina, lapsing into one of her characteristic swears when she lost her temper.  
  
"So why'd you do it, then?"  
  
"Because I was bloody miserable after that match, okay?" said Angelina angrily. "As I recall you were busy yourself."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You think I didn't see you go off into the bleachers with Priscilla Parkinson?" said Angelina accusingly. "A bloody SLYTHERIN girl, Fred. I ask you!"  
  
"Hey!" said Fred. "Priscilla is a perfectly nice girl!"  
  
"For a Slytherin," said Angelina.  
  
"At least she's not your best mate," said Fred.  
  
"Why would I care if you snogged my best mate?" said Angelina. "Better Alicia than a SLYTHERIN."  
  
"George would do his nut if I snogged Alicia and you know it," said Fred. "And...and...wait a minute! We're talking about you, not me! Why'd you do it, Angie? Why Lee?"  
  
"Why not?" said Angelina. "I told you, it didn't MEAN anything! My god, Fred. We'd just lost the stupid match and Harry was all messed up and I was feeling horrible and Lee was just...there. Okay? It just happened. It's not like I have a crush on him and it's not like we're going out. I think I might have even broke his heart, all right? It's not like I even feel good about kissing him."  
  
Fred opened his mouth to argue some more, but then gave up. It was ridiculous, he knew, to be yelling at her about this. Lee had had a crush on Angelina for ages. And here Angelina was feeling guilty about not returning Lee's affections.  
  
Fred suddenly felt very stupid.  
  
"You're right," he said. "I'm sorry, Angie. I dunno why I got so wound up about that. It was just...weird. Hearing about you and Lee. Sort of like it would be weird if you kissed my brother."  
  
"Now THAT would be weird," said Angelina, grinning.  
  
"You forgive me?" said Fred.  
  
"You're forgiven," said Angelina. "Although I'm not sure I should. You and Parkinson. Ugh!"  
  
"Hey, I'll have you know Priscilla Parkinson's damn good at snogging," said Fred. "Even if she is a Slytherin."  
  
"I can't believe your lips touched a Slytherin," said Angelina. "And then-- ew!--you kissed me! I'll have to wash my mouth out for a week!"  
  
"Thanks a lot," said Fred. "You're a real pal, Angie."  
  
Angelina laughed. "Just kidding!"  
  
And once again, things were okay between them. Fred was relieved. The whole day had been rather bizarre and disconcerting. They had crossed a line, twice. First with that kiss and then with Fred's...jealousy. But they seemed to have overcome those things, and were back to normal.  
  
Fred and Angelina continued through town toward the school, when Fred realized he couldn't resist asking her one last teasing question.  
  
"So, is Lee as good a kisser as I am?"  
  
Angelina's response was to swat him on the back of the head. 


	7. Chapter Seven: Sex and Confusion

A/N: Chapter contains sex, slightly violent overtones and nasty language. Also note that we are still in the twins' fifth year.  
  
Chapter Seven: Sex and Confusion  
  
"HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH!" Lee shrieked, sounding almost like a girl. "GRYFFINDOR WINS THE CUP! GRYFFINDOR WINS THE CUP!"  
  
"YEAH!" Fred yelled, and within seconds he was zooming down toward his teammates.  
  
He reached Angelina first. She was screaming, laughing and crying all at once.  
  
"We did it!" she shrieked. "We won! Freddie, we won!"  
  
She hovered on her broom and threw her arms round him, and he threw his arms round her, and before Fred knew what was happening she had kissed him firmly on the lips.  
  
She pulled away quickly, realizing what she'd done, and for a moment they stared at one another in confusion, but before either of them could say a word, their other teammates were upon them, hugging them, creating a tangle of brooms and limbs as they all floated to the ground.  
  
Once there they were flooded by screaming Gryffindors. Fred felt himself being yanked away from Angelina. His lips were tingling.  
  
"We won!" Lee bellowed, as he threw his arms round Fred and clapped him hard on the back.  
  
Fred blinked. It was an uproar. Harry was being borne up on everyone's shoulders. Oliver Wood was so beside himself he was crying. Professor McGonagall was crying. Even Percy was leaping up and down, his normally neat hair flopping wildly on his forehead and his glasses askew.  
  
"Twin!" George screamed, grabbing Fred by the shoulders and hugging him. "We won! Can you fucking BELIEVE IT?! We WON!"  
  
Fred blinked again.  
  
"Hey, Twin, wake the bloody hell up!" George yelled, dragging Fred toward the entrance of the castle, where Dumbledore stood holding the massive silver Quidditch Cup.  
  
Fred blinked a third time and came back to himself, then found himself laughing.  
  
"Blimey," he said weakly, through his laughter. "I can't believe we won!"  
  
"Georgie!" Alicia Spinnet screamed, and she threw her arms round George's neck and he twirled her in the air. She was kissing him all over his face and he was laughing.  
  
"Fred!" Katie Bell shrieked. She hugged him tightly and again he felt himself being pulled toward the castle. Where was Angelina?  
  
Fred swallowed. They'd kissed. Again. After agreeing that they wouldn't.  
  
Fred shook his head. Get a grip, Weasley, he thought. It wasn't a real KISS. And we've just won the Cup, haven't we? So we were both caught up in the moment. Right? And you haven't kissed at all since that day in Hogsmeade.  
  
But you're going out with Marietta at the moment. Good lord, where WAS Marietta? Had she seen Angelina kiss him? And Angelina was going out with Roger Davies. Had HE seen anything?  
  
"Fred."  
  
Fred turned, and found himself looking at Angelina.  
  
"Hey," he said awkwardly. A vision of George and Alicia twirling, with Alicia planting kisses all over George's face, filled Fred's mind. He wished Angelina would do that. No, he didn't.  
  
"Sorry," she said. "About--"  
  
"That," said Fred quickly. "Come on, we've...we've won the cup!"  
  
"Yeah," said Angelina. "I guess--we were just caught up in it."  
  
"You mean you were caught up," said Fred, grinning, hoping that by teasing her they could reclaim their friendship comfort zone.  
  
"Hey, you were there, too!" said Angelina, swatting him on the arm.  
  
"Guilty," said Fred. "But hey, no tongue that time, right, so it's okay."  
  
"Right," said Angelina, laughing. But it sounded a bit...forced.  
  
"Angie--"  
  
"No, you're right," said Angelina. "Totally innocent. Nothing to worry about."  
  
They didn't say anything for a moment, they simply looked at one another  
  
"Hey, you two!" shouted Lee. "Party in the common room!"  
  
"In a minute!" Angelina called. Lee shrugged and rolled his eyes, then turned and jogged back to the castle.  
  
"Frederick!" said a joyous female voice.  
  
Fred turned to come face to face with Marietta Edgecombe. His girlfriend.  
  
"Hey!" she said happily. "You were brilliant! Congratulations!"  
  
"Thanks," he said, trying to sound casual.  
  
"Oh, and you, too, Angelina," said Marietta, giving Angelina a slightly perfunctory smile.  
  
"Thanks," said Angelina, smiling back coolly.  
  
"You weren't hurt by that bat, were you?" said Marietta. "It was horrible when Flint hit you with it."  
  
"No, I'm okay," said Angelina.  
  
"Right," said Marietta. "I guess that was a silly question. You're a big, tough girl, you can handle silly Marcus Flint."  
  
"That's me," said Angelina tightly. "Big and tough."  
  
Fred swallowed. "Uh, Marietta," he said slowly.  
  
"Of course, it WAS nice of Frederick to send that Bludger into Flint's face," said Marietta sweetly, smiling up at Fred with a kind of adoring expression on her face. Fred's ears went red. "That's my Frederick, always being chivalrous."  
  
Angelina gave a kind of snort that turned into a cough. "Excuse me," she said. "I think I'll...head up to the party. See you later, Fred?"  
  
"Uh, sure," said Fred.  
  
He watched her go for a moment and swallowed again when he saw Roger Davies jog over to her and pull her into a hug. Roger then kissed Angelina rather enthusiastically on the lips, which caused her to laugh.  
  
"You really WERE incredible, Frederick," said Marietta, in a cooing sort of voice as she put her arms round his neck.  
  
Fred hugged her back. She smelled good. She looked great, as always. Her small, delicate body fit nicely next to his sturdy, larger, muscular one. Her blonde hair was loose and blew in the breeze. But as he held her close, his eyes wandered up to see Angelina walking slowly back to the castle, hand in hand with Roger Davies.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Oh, Frederick," Marietta moaned. Her head was thrown back and she clutched at Fred's chest as he thrust inside her, hard, her nails digging into the soft flesh.  
  
Fred closed his eyes, trying to lose himself in the girl on top of him. Trying not to wince at the way her nails were digging into him. Trying to muster some energy and enthusiasm when a part of him simply wanted to go to sleep.  
  
"Oh, yes, yes, YES!" Marietta screamed. "Oh, Frederick! Fuck me harder! HARDER!"  
  
He closed his eyes and obeyed, all the while tempted to grab his wand and put a Silencing Charm on her. Good lord, she was loud. It was always like this. Fred was amazed they hadn't been caught by now.  
  
They were in an empty classroom, on a pile of blankets. It was very late at night. The party in the Gryffindor common room had still been in full swing when Fred slipped out to meet her.  
  
"Frederick, kiss me."  
  
He did. Marietta's lips were soft, but a bit on the thin side. As he deepened the kiss he felt her tongue in his mouth, which stirred him to thrust into her harder. He worked up a good rhythm--and a good sweat--and she began to moan again in earnest. Fred was getting a bit tired now, and the urge to come was pressing on him, but he knew she'd never let him come before her. She sat up and arched her back and Fred took the opportunity to move his hand between their bodies and stroke her.  
  
"YES! YES! YES!" screamed Marietta, and she convulsed on top of him, giving in to her orgasm. The tightening of her muscles round him sent him over the edge, and he groaned as he spilled inside her.  
  
She collapsed onto him, sated at last. Fred felt the weight of her on him and felt her breath on his neck as she buried her head in his shoulder. He felt himself go slack and slip out of her. There was a thin sheen of sweat on her back, in her blonde hair.  
  
"Mmm," she murmured, kissing his neck. Already she was trying to arouse him again. Under other circumstances Fred might have felt an almost instant stirring down there, but tonight he was beyond exhausted. He'd played the hardest Quidditch match of his life today. Frankly, he was amazed he'd been able to shag her at all.  
  
"Frederick," murmured Marietta, and she began to kiss his face.  
  
"Mari," he said. "Please. I'm bloody exhausted."  
  
"Aw," said Marietta, in that annoying, cajoling way of hers, "one more go. Please, Frederick?"  
  
"Mari," Fred said, groaning. "I couldn't get it up again even if you charmed it, okay? No more tonight. I mean it."  
  
Marietta pouted, but rolled off him all the same.  
  
"Okay," she said reluctantly. "But tomorrow morning, watch out." She yawned and smiled at him sleepily, then closed her eyes.  
  
"Love you," she murmured.  
  
"Love you, too," Fred said dully.  
  
She went to sleep almost immediately. She always did. He was grateful for this. He was never one for conversation after a shag. Not that she was much of a conversationalist, even when they weren't in bed.  
  
Fred sighed. When they'd first started dating he'd been thrilled. He'd been lusting after her for weeks and when she finally agreed to go out with him he'd felt like he was floating on air.  
  
True, Marietta was a bit silly. She was one of those girls who was actually quite smart but who acted rather dizzy and dimwitted round boys. She tended to talk quite a lot about fashion and hair and anything else that was in the latest issue of Witch Weekly. She had the rather annoying habit of calling him by his full name, Frederick. It reminded him sickeningly of his mother, who would use his full name ("Frederick Michael Weasley!") whenever she was in a temper with him. But Marietta told him "Frederick" was distinguished, whereas "Fred" was ordinary. And Marietta would not settle for an ordinary boyfriend.  
  
Fred had rather hoped Marietta would be a bit more enthusiastic, too, about Quidditch. She was best friends with Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker. It seemed odd, therefore, that Marietta didn't show much interest in the sport herself.  
  
And of course, Marietta and Angelina didn't like each other much. Angelina had never once said an unkind word to Fred about Marietta, but Fred was perceptive enough to realize that he couldn't really talk to Angelina about his relationship with Marietta, either, and this had always bothered him. He missed that closeness he had with his best girl mate.  
  
Talking with Marietta about Angelina was out of the question. The few times he'd tried to entertain Marietta with a funny "Fred and Angie" story she had stopped him, usually with her breathy voice and seductive kisses.  
  
Fred looked at Marietta again. She slept soundly, not a care in the world. He sighed. What was wrong with him? He really ought to feel a bit better about things. Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup. He'd just had a nice shag with his girlfriend. So why did he feel so...empty?  
  
His mind wandered, and he wondered if Angelina and Roger had shagged yet. The thought wasn't a pleasant one. Fred rather hoped Angelina hadn't shagged Roger. Of if she had, that at least she'd waited longer to go to bed with Roger than Marietta had waited to go with Fred.  
  
Fred remembered their first time. He had been so amazed by it all that he was quite sure his performance had been dreadful, but Marietta hadn't seemed to care. Indeed, she had practically attacked him that night, only a few weeks after their first date. Fred had been shocked by her aggression-- she was, after all, only fifteen. She had been so wild and enthusiastic about it all that she hadn't seemed to notice that he'd lasted only about twenty seconds before succumbing to a brain-frying orgasm.  
  
They'd been shagging almost daily ever since. Marietta was enthusiastic and athletic (indeed, sex seemed to be the only thing she was athletic about), but Fred couldn't help but wonder whether her rather theatrical screaming and moaning when he was inside her or using his mouth on her was just that: theatrical. It just didn't seem entirely sincere to him.  
  
And, Fred had to admit, that her constant moaning and dirty talk could be very distracting. More than once he had imagined making love with Marietta in almost complete silence, finding that quiet place he'd often heard about that two people in love can share. But he could never seem to find that place with her.  
  
Then there was the fact that she was practically insatiable. If Marietta had her way they would shag for hours. Didn't she understand that he got TIRED sometimes? That just because he was young and horny didn't mean he was ALWAYS ready to go?  
  
It could be worse, he supposed. He could be jerking off every night in his room, alone, with only the photographs in dirty magazines to keep him company. At least Marietta was warm and had arms to put round him. But could that be enough?  
  
What, really, did he and Marietta have in common? Nothing, except for an enthusiasm for sex.  
  
It was odd, really, to feel this way. He was quite certain any number of blokes would kill to be in his shoes--dating a gorgeous blonde who shagged him every night and made very few demands of him. No, Marietta never expected too much from him. Never challenged him in anything. She was a total sweetheart. Deferential. Pleasant. Perhaps a bit caustic about Angelina, but otherwise adoring. And of course, as randy as he was. She was the perfect girlfriend.  
  
Perfectly boring.  
  
Fred turned on his side, away from her. It just wasn't working for him anymore. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a decent conversation with Marietta. They hadn't gone on a date in weeks. No, they always ended up here, in this old, abandoned classroom. More than once Fred had hoped that they might just sit up one night and TALK like friends, but they didn't. Marietta didn't seem to want to talk. She only wanted to fuck. And that had become boring.  
  
Fred watched Marietta sleep for a moment. He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't be her boyfriend. He had to break it off. But how? When?  
  
As soon as possible, he thought.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Except that "as soon as possible" never seemed to come for Fred. Every time he had the opportunity to tell Marietta it was over, he found that he couldn't. Mainly because she always initiated sex before he could get the words out, and he--horny git that he was--wound up going along with it.  
  
At first, anyway. But as the days went along and the dreaded O.W.Ls came nearer, Fred began to avoid Marietta. His exams provided the perfect excuse to spend less and less time with her. She scoffed at him when he'd told her he needed to study ("YOU, study? When have you EVER studied?"), but very quickly she backed off, when she noticed that he WAS, in fact, studying. Sort of.  
  
He and George didn't have much hope of doing all that well, of course. The twins were not stupid so much as underachieving. At least where their school work was concerned. Lately Fred and George had begun to invent things. Joke things, like fake wands and blowing gum that turned one's skin blue. They were clever little inventions, but hardly the sort of thing that helped them in their schoolwork.  
  
The other reason Fred studied for the O.W.Ls was, quite simply, to avoid any complications at home. His mother had written the twins regularly for the past month, threatening dire consequences if they didn't do well on the exams.  
  
But the true misery of the month was not the studying, or the daily sense of dread he felt at knowing he would have to confront Marietta sooner or later. The true misery was not seeing Angelina.  
  
He missed her. He missed her company, her humor, her understanding. When she wasn't studying she was with Roger Davies (and even when she WAS studying it was usually in his company). The two of them seemed very close. Angelina always looked like she had a good time with Roger. Like she was...happy. Fred realized almost at once that he was jealous. Angelina had with Roger what Fred had wanted with Marietta. What Fred knew he could not have.  
  
The O.W.Ls came at last, but Fred barely noticed he was taking them. He slogged his way through the written and practical parts of each exam, his brain on a sort of auto-pilot. On the morning after his final practical exam--Astronomy--Fred headed outside after breakfast to enjoy the sunshine and the fair weather.  
  
Unfortunately, Marietta Edgecombe seemed to have the same idea, and she caught up with him just outside the Great Hall. Fred was tempted to brush her off, but he didn't. He realized he could not put off what he needed to say to her a moment longer.  
  
They wound up sitting by the lake. Marietta had already asked him a few times what was wrong.  
  
"Mari, we have to talk."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"You're BREAKING UP with me?"  
  
Marietta's normally pretty face was screwed up in shock and fury.  
  
"Look, Mari, it's not working, okay?" said Fred weakly, holding up his hands.  
  
"It's working just FINE for me!" she snapped angrily.  
  
"Not for me," said Fred. He couldn't remember ever feeling so damn exhausted.  
  
"What's wrong?" said Marietta furiously. "Do I not shag you enough?"  
  
"What?" said Fred. "No, Mari, that's not it. Believe me."  
  
"Oh," said Marietta. "I get it. It's another girl, isn't it?"  
  
"No!" said Fred, although part of him was now wishing this WERE the case. It would be a much easier way to dump her, a much more convenient excuse than trying to explain to her that he just didn't care very much for her any more, if he ever did.  
  
"Then WHAT is the problem?" Marietta shrieked. "I don't get this, Frederick. You and I have a lovely time together. We have great sex. I certainly make things easy for you, I'm not one of those demanding girls who expects you to be with my all the time, am I?"  
  
"No," said Fred dully.  
  
"And it's not like I'm not enthusiastic when it comes to sex, is it?" said Marietta.  
  
Fred stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. "You don't understand," he said. "It's not enough." He stood up and walked away from her, looking out at the lake.  
  
"Sex every DAY isn't enough?"  
  
"It's not about sex!" said Fred. "Jesus, Mari. Don't you get it? The only thing we have in common is sex, and it's not enough for me, okay? We don't talk. We don't hang out. We just fuck. And guess what? Even for a horny git like me that gets old after a while. Why can't we be friends, eh? Why is it that the ONLY thing we do is shag?"  
  
"Well, EXCUSE ME for wanting to please you!" Marietta cried, angry tears shining in her blue eyes. She leapt up. "I thought sex is what you wanted! Most blokes would be grateful to have a girlfriend who bangs them stupid every night!"  
  
"Is that what fucking me is all about, then?" said Fred furiously. "Making me GRATEFUL to you? Getting me into some kind of--of Shag Debt to you? Making yourself into some kind of--of sexual martyr or something?"  
  
"Well, it's not like I haven't been generous," said Marietta.  
  
"Jesus, will you listen to yourself?" said Fred incredulously. "That's sick, Mari! Sex isn't supposed to be about that!"  
  
"Then what's it about?" said Marietta hotly. "If you're such an expert? Why don't you tell me, Frederick?"  
  
"I don't know," said Fred angrily. "I only know it's not supposed to be about this. I don't want this. I want--I want more, okay? I wanted to be friends with you but--but you never let me. Every time I tried to talk to you about anything, about myself, ask about you, you--you jumped on me."  
  
"Don't you DARE try to blame this all on me!" said Marietta.  
  
"I'm not," said Fred sadly. "I didn't stop you, did I? I was too much of a horny immature git. I admit it, all right? But--it's not ENOUGH, Mari. I want more. I want a girlFRIEND, not just a--a shag partner."  
  
Marietta stared at him, and her eyes went cold.  
  
"I get it," she said frostily. "It's that Angelina Johnson, isn't it? She's turned you against me."  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
"Don't try to deny it, Frederick," said Marietta icily. "That girl has always had it out for me. She's never approved of us being together. I'll bet she's been poisoning your mind about me from Day One!"  
  
"Angelina hasn't said a word about you!" said Fred. "She has nothing to do with this!"  
  
"Bullshit!" said Marietta. "I've seen the way she looks at me. Like I'm not good enough for you!"  
  
"That's not true!" Fred shouted.  
  
"You're having it off with her, aren't you?"  
  
"WHAT!?" Fred cried, now completely stunned. "Angelina's going out with Roger Davies, remember? What are you on about?"  
  
"You're fucking her, aren't you?" said Marietta angrily, and now her red, furious face was only inches from his. Her blue eyes were blazing.  
  
"No!"  
  
"Yes, you are, don't lie to me!" she yelled. "What, are you sharing her with Roger, is that it? He stuffs her one day, you stuff her the next?"  
  
Fred felt hot anger race through his veins. "Don't you talk about Angie!"  
  
"Angie, Angie, Angie!" Marietta mocked. "I wonder who she likes better, Roger or you. Probably Roger, if she has any taste."  
  
"I'm warning you, Marietta--"  
  
"Is it because she's black, Frederick? Is that it?" Marietta went on. "I've heard black girls are real animals in bed. Is that it? You have the gall to tell me you're dumping me because we're not FRIENDLY enough while you're boffing that--that big, stupid, ugly, BLACK WHORE!"  
  
A fury, white hot and all consuming, shot through Fred's veins and he clenched his fists. He wanted to hit her. He'd never hit a girl in his life, had always thought boys who hit girls were bullies, beneath contempt. But at that moment, he wanted to backhand Marietta Edgecombe right across her face.  
  
Instead his hands reached for her shoulders and gripped them hard.  
  
"Don't you EVER say that about Angie again," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "Ever."  
  
Marietta's anger vanished and her face went white with fear as he gripped her shoulders and brought his face within inches of hers.  
  
"Angelina Johnson," Fred said slowly, "is a thousand times the girl you'll ever be, Marietta. She's beautiful and smart and warm and loyal. Yeah, she doesn't like you, but she never once said a nasty word about you to me, and do you know why? Because she's a true mate, something you couldn't possibly understand. She's my best mate and she knew I cared about you and she didn't want to mess with my happiness. Only I wish she had. I wish she had told me what a--a selfish, cruel, manipulative, RACIST little bitch you are. Then maybe I wouldn't have wasted my time on you."  
  
He let go of her shoulders roughly and she stumbled back, staring at him in shock.  
  
Fred glowered at her for a long moment, willing her to back away from him with his furious blue-grey eyes. She did.  
  
"Goodbye, Marietta," he said slowly. "I wish I could say it's been fun."  
  
He backed away from her, thoroughly disgusted, with her, with himself. How could he have slept with this girl? This horrible, bigoted, self-centered girl? How had he not known her true nature?  
  
Because you were too busy fucking her to notice, the voice in his head said.  
  
He was ashamed of himself. He would never be that stupid, or blind, again.  
  
He turned and started to stalk away from her, but stopped when she began to shout at him again.  
  
"Oh yeah?" she cried. "Well, let me tell YOU something, Frederick Weasley! You're nothing but a stupid, ugly, poor, pathetic LOSER! You have a TINY cock! AND you're HORRIBLE in bed!"  
  
Fred supposed he ought to feel embarrassed by what she'd just said, but he didn't. He realized he didn't care. In fact, her words struck him as bizarrely funny, and he began to laugh. He shook his head and laughed.  
  
He was still laughing when he walked into the castle. Okay, so that had been a lot worse than he'd thought, and a part of him still wanted to hit her for what she'd said about Angelina. But thank Merlin, he was finally free of Marietta Edgecombe. For good.  
  
He laughed all the way back to his room. 


	8. Chapter Eight: Roger Davies

A/N: Next few chapters take place during twins' sixth year.  
  
Chapter Eight: Roger Davies  
  
Fred and George shut the compartment door, locked it, and pulled the drapes.  
  
"What's all this?" said Lee.  
  
"Top secret," said George. "Don't want anyone muscling in on our action, do we?"  
  
"No," said Lee, "but the girls'll be round soon--"  
  
"True," said Fred, "but as our Official Best Mate you get to be the first non-Weasley to sample our products."  
  
"Actually, no," said George, looking at Fred. "The first non-Weasley to sample our products was that fat Muggle kid, Harry's cousin. Remember?"  
  
"Oh, yeah," said Fred.  
  
"I'm hurt," said Lee. "You let a fat Muggle try out your stuff before me?"  
  
"Trust us, mate, you did NOT want to be a guinea pig for that particular product," said George.  
  
"Fair enough," said Lee. "So...show me the stuff, already!"  
  
"Without further ado," said Fred dramatically, "George Weasley and Frederick Weasley present to you--"  
  
"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!" shouted George. The two of them emptied their bags onto the seat next to Lee.  
  
"Whoa," said Lee, and he immediately began pawing through the lot. He picked up one of the wands.  
  
"A wand?" he said dubiously.  
  
"Give it a wave," said George, arching his eyebrows.  
  
Lee did. The wand burst and turned instantly into squawking rubber chicken. Lee burst into laughter.  
  
"That's brilliant!" he said.  
  
"Not bad, eh?" said Fred proudly. "George did the fake wands. Best fakes I've ever seen. They make Zonko's look like amateur junk."  
  
"Why, thank you, Twin," said George, clapping Fred on the back.  
  
"Mind you," said Fred, his tone going dark, "we would have had more stuff if Mum hadn't binned half of it."  
  
"That reminds me," said Lee, stuffing a piece of Pumpkin Pasty in his mouth. "How'd your mum react to your O.W.L. results?"  
  
Fred scowled. "How do you think she reacted?"  
  
"She went ballistic, of course," said George. "Well, I almost can't blame her. I mean, we DID only get three a piece."  
  
"And we barely scraped a pass in those three," said Fred.  
  
"But she REALLY did her nut when we told her about the plans for the joke shop," said George, sitting down heavily in the seat across from Lee.  
  
"You told her about that already?" said Lee.  
  
"Had to," said Fred. "She wouldn't shut up about the two of us going to the Ministry like Dad and Percy. I mean, don't get me wrong. Dad's great, but who the bloody hell wants to be like Percy?"  
  
"'I'll have that cauldron thickness report on your desk first thing tomorrow, Mr. Crouch!'" George mocked, in a very convincing Percy-like voice. "'Would you like some tea, Mr. Crouch?'"  
  
"'I'd love some tea, Weatherby!"' said Fred, imitating Barty Crouch's voice perfectly.  
  
"Percy's boss loves him so much he doesn't even know his real name," said George dryly.  
  
"Enough about Percy," said Fred. "Sanctimonious git. We both know we're not meant for that stuff. We'll have our joke shop whether Mum likes it or not. We'll be seventeen next April, we'll be of age. Nothing Mum can do to stop us then."  
  
"Amen to that," said George. "Wait, don't eat that!" he added, grabbing Lee's wrist as Lee prepared to pop a Ton-Tongue Toffee in his mouth.  
  
"Why?" said Lee.  
  
"That was the product that we tested on the fat Muggle," said Fred. "And, uh, we haven't exactly figured out the antidote for it, so..."  
  
"Right," said Lee, hurriedly putting the Ton Tongue Toffee back into its wrapper. He turned to Fred and grinned.  
  
"So, Fred," he said jovially. "Found any sweet young thing to take the place of Miss Edgecombe?"  
  
Fred scowled again. "Are you TRYING to put me in a bad mood, Lee?"  
  
"Just wondering," said Lee innocently.  
  
"No," said Fred. "Let's just say that the shame of boffing Marietta has put me off sex for the time being."  
  
"Oh, come on," said Lee. "It couldn't have been that bad."  
  
"At the time?" said Fred. "No. I was getting laid. Now? I'd rather fuck the Giant Squid, thanks."  
  
"Wow," said George. "She really DID do a number on you, didn't she?"  
  
"Whatever," said Fred irritably. "Can we please talk about something else?"  
  
"All right," said Lee quickly. "Hey, have you heard anything about something happening at the school this year?"  
  
Fred seized on the change of subject. "Yeah," he said. "Mum and Dad kept hinting about something. And Bill and Charlie. And Percy of course."  
  
"Percy was being his usual smug self about it," said George.  
  
"What WERE they on about, anyway?" Fred wondered. "And why all the secrecy?"  
  
"Dunno," said Lee. "My parents hinted at it, too, but they wouldn't tell me. Apparently it's this big surprise."  
  
"Well, whatever it is, it had better be good," said Fred.  
  
"Maybe Filch died," said George hopefully.  
  
"Or Snape," said Lee.  
  
A knock on the compartment door interrupted them.  
  
"Who is it?" Lee shouted.  
  
"Open up, Jordan!" said a female voice.  
  
"Ah," said George, looking very pleased as he pulled back the drapes, unlocked the door and opened it.  
  
Alicia Spinnet started to enter the compartment, but George grabbed her and swung her round, dipping her low.  
  
"George!" she shrieked.  
  
"Alicia, my love," said George, grinning wickedly. Fred and Lee sniggered.  
  
"Let me up!" she gasped, giggling.  
  
"I will if you kiss me first," said George.  
  
"George, good lord," said Alicia, rolling her eyes.  
  
"All right, then," said George. "If you like being upside-down--"  
  
She groaned and kissed him. He kissed her back. Fred and Lee made retching noises. George broke the kiss and swung Alicia back up. Both of them were red-lipped and red-faced.  
  
"You two are disgusting," said Fred.  
  
"You're just jealous, Fred," said Alicia.  
  
"Fred hasn't discovered the absolute joy of true love yet, my sweet," said George, giving Alicia a playful pinch on her behind.  
  
"GEORGE!" she shrieked, slapping his hand.  
  
"None of that!" said Lee. "There are children present."  
  
"Children?" said another female voice. "I must be in the right car, then."  
  
"Angie!" said Lee. "Welcome to our den of iniquity!"  
  
"For the last time, Lee, DON'T call me Angie," said Angelina, as she entered the compartment.  
  
"Yeah," said Fred, "that's MY privilege." He grinned at her and pulled her into a tight hug.  
  
"Hey, you," he said in her ear, delighted to see her. "Missed you."  
  
"Missed you, too, you prat," she said, grinning, as she pulled out of the hug.  
  
"You look good enough to eat," said Fred, winking. She did. Her hair was in long braids, her skin was very coffee (she'd spent part of her summer in the West Indies again), and her clothes clung to her in all the right places. Fred's eyes skipped over her lush breasts.  
  
"Thanks," said Angelina. "Now stop staring at my chest, would you?"  
  
"Damn," said Fred. "Caught again."  
  
"You're not exactly subtle," said Angelina. "What on earth is all this stuff?" She had turned to look at the mess of items on the seat next to Lee.  
  
"Can I tell her?" said Lee.  
  
"Right, then," said Fred, closing the compartment door once more.  
  
"THIS," said Lee dramatically, "is Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."  
  
"This stuff?" said Angelina. "For your joke shop? Cool!" She began to rifle through it and picked up another wand.  
  
"A wand?" she said. "Let me guess." She gave it a wave.  
  
There was a loud popping noise and the wand turned into a giant slug.  
  
"EW!!" Angelina screamed and she dropped the slug. It landed with a wet splat on the floor. "Dammit! I hate slugs!"  
  
"Nice one, George!" said Fred, holding his sides as he laughed.  
  
"Shut up, Fred!" said Angelina hotly, and with one long stride she crossed to him. "Here, have a little slug slime." She wiped her hand very roughly through his hair.  
  
"Hey!" he said. "You'll pay for that one." He ran his fingers across a Cauldron Cake, collecting a healthy portion of icing, and smeared it in her hair. "There!"  
  
"You are SO dead, Weasley," said Angelina, and she picked up a carton of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.  
  
"FOOD FIGHT!" yelled Lee.  
  
And once again, the compartment was filled with flying food, only this time it was accompanied by various Weasley's Wizard Wheezes items. Angelina gave out another disgusted shriek when she trod on the giant slug and it burst, spraying slime everywhere. The girls shrieked and giggled and the boys guffawed. Fred suddenly found himself wrestling playfully with Angelina; she was gasping and laughing, and so was he. He felt again how much he missed her, even as she managed to get him in a head lock.  
  
"Uh, hello?"  
  
The voice was barely audible over the noise, but loud enough to cause the five of them to stop what they were doing and freeze in place. Fred had managed to get out of Angelina's grip and had her in a headlock now. George and Alicia and Lee were all on the floor, covered in sweets and goo of various sorts.  
  
"Roger!" said Angelina, and Fred instantly let go of her as she stood up quickly. "Hi!"  
  
"Angelina," said Roger Davies slowly, "what's...going on?"  
  
"Oh," said Angelina, and her brown cheeks went pink, "well, uh, just a little food fight. You know."  
  
"Yeah," said Fred. "Me and Angie were just...catching up."  
  
"Right," said Angelina.  
  
"That's...nice," said Roger tightly. His eyes ran up and down Angelina; she was covered head to foot with icing, slug slime, jelly beans, and bits of Pumpkin Pasties. "Listen, Angelina, I was...missing you back there."  
  
"Oh," said Angelina quickly. "Sorry. I got caught up here, I guess."  
  
"Right," said Roger. Fred felt his back tense. Why on earth was Davies giving him the hairy eye?  
  
"So," said Roger. "Want to head back to my compartment?" His eyes twinkled and he shot a proprietary look in Fred's direction. Back off, said the look. She's my girl. Fred clenched his teeth and his fists, amazed that Davies would be jealous. Good lord, they were just having a bit of fun, Fred and Angelina. It didn't MEAN anything.  
  
"Angelina," said Roger, a bit sharply.  
  
"Sure," said Angelina nervously. "Uh, I'll just clean up first." She pulled her wand from her jeans pocket, pointed it at herself and said "Scourgify." Instantly, every trace of food and slime was gone. She looked clean and fresh and pretty. Fred couldn't help but look at her. His eyes moved to Roger Davies, who now looked almost furious.  
  
"Let's go," he said shortly, taking Angelina by the elbow and pulling her out of the compartment.  
  
"'Bye, Fred," said Angelina, grinning sheepishly at him.  
  
"See you later," said Fred. "After the feast, yeah?"  
  
"Uh, maybe," said Angelina, her eyes moving from Roger to Fred and back to Roger. She grinned weakly again, and moved down the corridor as Roger slipped an arm round her shoulder. Fred ran a hand through his sticky hair and moved to close the compartment door. He glanced down the aisle and saw Roger pull Angelina close and kiss her on the mouth. It was a very passionate kiss. Angelina sank against him and put her arms round him.  
  
Fred looked away. The elated feeling he'd had at seeing her again after so long evaporated. 


	9. Chapter Nine: A Shoulder to Cry On

Chapter Nine: A Shoulder to Cry On  
  
Fred ran a hand through his hair in frustration and sat back on the cushy armchair in the common room. His attempts to do his Potions homework were futile.  
  
He was in a foul mood. He'd been in a foul mood a lot these days. Between Bagman cheating him and George out of their gold over the World Cup wager and the rigors of their lessons and homework, Fred wasn't liking school much at all this year.  
  
He missed Angelina, but she had been spending most of her time with that prat Roger Davies.  
  
Roger Davies. Fred scowled just thinking about him. Angelina, poor fool, was besotted. Fred couldn't understand why. Davies was arrogant and full of himself and not even all THAT good at Quidditch. He was smart and he knew it, and he lorded his intelligence over everyone.  
  
Angelina, meanwhile, had changed. Or at least, she changed whenever she was around him, which was often. Fred couldn't believe it. When Davies and Angelina were together, Angelina just wasn't herself. Instead of being the tough, independent, fun-loving and outspoken girl she normally was, she turned into the kind of simpering, silly female Fred couldn't stand to be around.  
  
The worst of it, though, was that Fred knew for a fact that Davies was cheating on her.  
  
A few nights ago, late in the evening, Fred had been in the library with George--not studying but doing research on old joke products for their own product development--and as Fred had moved into the stacks and pulled another reference volume from the shelves, he noticed through the crack in the shelf two people in the midst of a rather enthusiastic but quiet snogging session. They were going at it in the next stacks over, and Fred knew at once who the girl was. Her hair gave her away instantly.  
  
Fleur Delacour. The abnormally beautiful, part-Veela Beauxbatons girl who was also the Triwizard Champion for her school. Fred wasn't surprised to see her snogging someone--half the blokes in the school who'd past puberty were lusting after her (Fred himself had briefly entertained fantasies of getting in her knickers). But then the two of them turned and he saw who the boy was. It was Davies.  
  
Fred backed away and returned to the table, his face tight. When George asked what was wrong, Fred merely shook his head and said "Nothing."  
  
But that night, and for the past few nights, Fred had felt a bit sick. Angelina was crazy about Davies. If she found out that he was cheating on her with Fleur, she'd be devastated.  
  
Fred groaned and ignored the looks of his twin and Ron, Harry and Hermione in his direction. He pretended to focus on his Potions homework, but his mind couldn't erase the image of Fleur and Roger snogging.  
  
A part of Fred desperately wanted to tell Angelina what he had seen, but that part of him was squelched by the other part of him that knew she wouldn't believe him, that knew she would instead get angry with him and accuse him of trying to hurt her. Fred understood this instinctively. Had not Angelina remained silent about Marietta's true character for the very same reason? Because she knew that Fred wouldn't have wanted to listen to Angelina criticize his then-girlfriend?  
  
She's your best mate, a voice in his head said. And she's in love with a prat who's dicking round with another girl. And you're just going to let that go on?  
  
Yes, he thought. What else can I do?  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"You're sure it was Davies?" said George, two hours later.  
  
"Yeah," said Fred. He and George sat on Fred's bed; the curtains were drawn and Fred had charmed it so that no one could eavesdrop on their conversation. Fred hadn't meant to tell anyone about what he'd seen, but it was eating him up inside, and of all the people in the world who would understand and keep a secret, it was his twin.  
  
"Blimey," said George. "What a prick."  
  
"No kidding," said Fred. "I dunno what to do, George. This arsehole's cheating on my best mate in the world. If I tell her, she won't believe me and she'll hate me. But if I don't tell her and she finds out...IF she finds out..."  
  
"Oh, she'll find out," said George. "He's snogging Delacour in the library, it's not like he's trying to be very discreet about it, is he?"  
  
"I suppose," said Fred. "What the fuck is wrong with him, anyway? Angie's fantastic. Why would he want to cheat on her?"  
  
"Well, Fleur IS part Veela," said George reasonably. "Her kind always mess with a man's head."  
  
"They can't mess with a bloke's head if he's careful," said Fred.  
  
"True," said George. "Listen, Fred, uh, have Angelina and Davies...you know..."  
  
"Slept together?" said Fred. "Yeah. She told me about it over the summer in one of her letters. But you can't--"  
  
"--say anything," George finished. "I won't." He paused. "When she finds out, it'll be that much worse."  
  
"Why's that?"  
  
"Well," said George, "she's had sex with him. You know how girls are, the whole losing their virginity thing. Most of them practically wear chastity belts and want a marriage proposal before they give it up."  
  
"Not all of them," said Fred, remembering Marietta.  
  
"Yes, well, there ARE the exceptions," said George sourly.  
  
"Alicia still hasn't--"  
  
"No," said George shortly. "But as to Angelina," he added pointedly, "I mean, it would be serious for her, wouldn't it? Giving it up for Davies."  
  
"Yeah," said Fred, hating the very idea of Angelina and Roger having sex.  
  
"Look, Fred," said George. "You know what you have to do. You can't tell her. You're right, she won't believe you."  
  
"So I just sit by and watch my best girl mate get her heart stomped on?" said Fred. "That's bollocks."  
  
"I know," said George. "But that's love for you. Clouds the brain. Makes people blind. All that stuff."  
  
"I want to beat the snot out of Davies, you know," said Fred angrily. "What's he on about, cheating on Angelina? If Angie were my girl I wouldn't so much as LOOK at another woman."  
  
George gave him a look. "Uh huh," he said. "But she's not your girl."  
  
Fred looked down at his feet. "No, she's not." He groaned and flopped back onto his pillows in frustration.  
  
"I don't want to see her get hurt, George," he said. "I really don't."  
  
"I know you don't," said George.  
  
"Isn't there ANYTHING I can do about this?" said Fred.  
  
"Just be there for her when her heart breaks," said George. "Be her shoulder to cry on."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Fred's shoulder was put on duty for just that purpose only a week later. He entered the common room late one night, after another vigorous round of product development study in the library, to find it empty.  
  
Empty, save for a long, dark figure sitting on the sofa near the fire.  
  
Angelina. She was in white pyjamas and a robe and her legs were curled beneath her. Her skin glowed golden brown in the firelight. She was staring at the crackling flames. Her face was wet with tears as she cried silently.  
  
"Hey," said Fred hesitantly, feeling his own heart constrict at the sight of her.  
  
"Hi," she said, her voice thready and weak. She didn't look at him, she kept staring at the fire.  
  
Fred put his books down on a nearby table and slowly approached her.  
  
"Angie," he said slowly. "Uh, what's...what's up?" He sat down gently next to her and put a hand on her shoulder.  
  
Something about this gentle contact brought forth a choked sob from Angelina's throat.  
  
"Fred..." she sobbed, and her shoulders began to shake. He pulled her into his arms and she wept bitterly.  
  
"I'm here," he whispered, stroking her braided hair. "Tell me." He already knew, but she didn't know that he knew. She pulled out of his embrace and looked at him. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot, her face stained with tears. Fred brushed the tears away from her cheeks tenderly with his thumbs. She looked very young and vulnerable. His heart was breaking.  
  
"Roger," she said, her voice shaking. "He...I saw...with...with that French girl...they were..." Her voice broke again. "They were...shagging...in a corridor!"  
  
She broke down again, her shoulders slumping.  
  
"Oh, Angie," Fred whispered, and he pulled her into his arms again. "My poor baby." He held her close and stroked her hair, her shoulders.  
  
She couldn't talk anymore, and he didn't bother asking her questions. He just let her cry.  
  
"What's...wrong with me?" she asked at last, sobbing into his shoulder.  
  
"What are you on about?" he asked gently, lifting her chin and brushing more tears away.  
  
"I don't understand," she said.  
  
"What don't you understand, love?" he asked.  
  
"I thought...I thought he loved me," she said, looking down. "He told me he loved me."  
  
THAT really made Fred angry. Probably told her he loved her just to get in her knickers, he thought furiously. And now he's gone and broken her heart.  
  
Fred couldn't think of what to say, but in the next moment she began to talk again.  
  
"Am I ugly?" she whispered.  
  
Fred stared at her, stunned. "What?"  
  
"Am I...ugly?" she repeated, still looking at her feet.  
  
"No," said Fred at once, in the most fervent voice. "No, Angie. Where on earth would you get that idea?"  
  
"I'm just so...BIG," she said miserably.  
  
"You're tall," he corrected.  
  
"Built like a bloody footballer," she said.  
  
"Athletic," he corrected.  
  
"And Fleur's this...this perfect GIRL and I'm just this big lump--"  
  
"Stop it," said Fred, cupping her face with his hands. "Angie, you're beautiful. Do you hear? Beautiful and smart and graceful and athletic and regal. The best girl in the world."  
  
She sniffed and looked up at him, her dark brown eyes shiny with tears. Her expression was that of a whipped puppy.  
  
"Really?" she whispered.  
  
"Really," he said firmly, feeling a lump in his throat, and hating that she was so insecure. Where on EARTH had that come from? Angelina, smart, tough, confident, gorgeous Angelina thought she was big and ugly? Just because she was tall and athletic instead of wispy and petite?  
  
"Come here," he said again, and he hugged her tightly. "Don't you ever think badly about yourself, Angie. You hear me?"  
  
"But Roger--"  
  
"The hell with Roger," said Fred softly. "He doesn't deserve you."  
  
She sniffed and he felt her shoulders shake again. "I...love him," she whispered miserably.  
  
"I know," said Fred sadly. He could tell her a thousand times that Davies was a prat, that he wasn't good enough for her, but at that moment, despite the hurt he'd inflicted, Angelina was still in love with him.  
  
Fred shifted on the sofa and pulled her with him, hugging her to his chest, letting her cry softly there and stroking her hair. He let her cry until she fell asleep in his arms, and he held her all night. 


	10. Chapter Ten: The Yule Ball

A/N: Borrowed some dialogue right out of GoF for this chapter. Fans should recognize JKR's dialogue, and she gets all the credit for that (along with the characters, etc. I don't own anything, blah blah blah)  
  
Chapter Ten: The Yule Ball  
  
"A Yule Ball, eh?" said George. "I guess that means we're staying here for Christmas." The twins were walking slowly down the corridor toward the common room.  
  
"How do you know?" said Fred absently, looking over the latest Weasley's Wizard Wheezes order forms.  
  
"Alicia," said George. "She'll want to go. Damn. I hate getting all dressed up."  
  
"Yeah, well, be glad your dress robes don't have lace on them, like Ron's," said Fred. "I almost feel sorry for him. He's going to look like a girl in that get-up."  
  
"A very ugly girl," said George. "So, you going to the ball?"  
  
"Sure, why not?" said Fred, nodding with satisfaction at the order form. "That's two dozen orders for Canary Creams, George. Not bad at all."  
  
"Not bad," George agreed. "Be nicer if we didn't have to just do mail order, though."  
  
"At the rate we're going we won't get enough for premises for the next five years," said Fred, shaking his head. "And that stupid prat Bagman--"  
  
"Don't get me started," said George.  
  
"You got that letter for him?" said Fred.  
  
"Right here," said George, patting his robe breast pocket.  
  
"Balderdash," said Fred at the Fat Lady, and the portrait swung open. The twins crawled through the portrait hole and entered the common room to find Hermione studying, Harry reading "Flying with the Cannons," and Ron building a castle out of Exploding Snap cards. As Ron placed his last two cards on top, the whole thing exploded, singing his red eyebrows.  
  
"Nice look, Ron...go well with your dress robes, that will," said Fred, giving George a look that said "Younger brothers. Honestly." Ron scowled at them both.  
  
"Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?" George asked.  
  
"No, he's off delivering a letter," said Ron. "Why?"  
  
"Because George wants to invite him to the ball," said Fred, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Because we want to send a letter, you dirty great prat," said George.  
  
"Who d'you two keep writing to, eh?" said Ron, narrowing his eyes at them.  
  
"Nose out, Ron, or I'll burn that for you, too," said Fred, pulling out his wand and giving it a threatening wave. "You lot got dates for the ball yet?"  
  
"Nope," said Ron, pausing to push the remnants of his card castle into a pile.  
  
"Well, you'd better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will be gone," said Fred.  
  
"Who're you going with, then?" said Ron.  
  
"Angelina," said Fred, glancing over at her and grinning. She was deep in conversation with Alicia and hadn't seen him yet.  
  
"You've already asked her?" said Ron.  
  
Fred looked back at Ron, then at George. Actually, he hadn't.  
  
"Good point," he said. "Oi! Angelina!"  
  
Angelina looked up. Her eyes were bright, but they still had traces of sadness in them. She was still feeling the pain of her break-up with Roger, but Fred was heartened to see that she didn't look nearly so depressed today as she had just a week ago. Perhaps she was finally getting over Davies after all...  
  
"Want to go to the ball with me?" Fred called, grinning at her. Say yes, he thought. It'll be fun. You deserves a bit of fun.  
  
She regarded him for a moment, then smiled. "All right, then."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Dammit," said Fred. He glared at himself in the mirror. It was the dress robes, he decided. Everything else about him looked fine. His hair was stylishly messy, his shirt and trousers fit him well, but the dress robes...  
  
The color wasn't bad. Midnight blue, which set off his eyes. But they were shabby and clearly second hand. The velvet had a worn-out, faded look to it.  
  
Bloody hell, he thought. Well, at least they don't have lace.  
  
There was nothing to be done about it. He'd already committed to going to the ball, not so much out of a desire to go but to get Angelina out and about. She had been spending far too much time in her room moping about Davies. He only hoped she would be able to deal with seeing Roger at the ball with Fleur.  
  
He left the dormitory and headed down to the common room, where George, Alicia, Lee and Katie Bell were all preparing to go out of the portrait hole.  
  
"Hi, Fred," said Alicia in a friendly voice. "Angie said she'll be down in a few minutes."  
  
"Girls," said George. "They love to be fashionably late. Except for Alicia, of course." He gave Alicia a fond smile and she rolled her eyes and kissed him on the cheek.  
  
"You two are disgusting," said Lee and Fred together.  
  
George made a rude gesture in their direction, and Fred grinned as his twin, Alicia, Katie and Lee all made their way out of the common room.  
  
Fred headed toward the fireplace and was about to sit down when he heard noise above him. He looked up to see a girl descending the spiral staircase.  
  
It was Angelina.  
  
Fred's jaw dropped. Her robes were a soft champagne color that set off her beautiful coffee and cream skin. Her dark hair, with its thousands of tiny braids, was done up in an elaborate twist with tiny, sparkling beads threaded throughout. Beneath her robes she wore a matching champagne colored silk dress that skimmed her body and dipped low in the front, revealing a very luscious décolletage. She wore matching shoes on her feet, whose heels gave her another two inches of height. She looked more beautiful than Fred had ever seen her.  
  
"Hi," she said, smiling.  
  
"Wow," he said. "Angie. You look...wow."  
  
"Is that your way of saying I clean up nicely?" said Angelina archly.  
  
"You look amazing," he said. "Beautiful."  
  
"Thanks," she said, a bit shyly. "You look really nice, too."  
  
"Thanks," he said, but he felt shabby and worn in his second-hand robes.  
  
"Fred," she said, taking his hand. "Thanks. For asking me."  
  
Fred felt his face get hot. "Of course," he said, trying to sound casual. "Who else would I go with?"  
  
"I know I haven't been much fun lately--" she began.  
  
"Shh," he said, putting a finger over her lips, which were full and shiny. "We're going to have fun tonight, okay? You're the most beautiful girl in the whole damn school, and I'm going to be the best date you've ever had. Got it?"  
  
Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears and she smiled. "Got it," she said.  
  
"Shall we?" Fred offered her his arm. She took it. Together they headed out of the portrait hole, and toward the Great Hall.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The students were milling about outside the Great Hall when Fred and Angelina reached the crowd.  
  
"Champions, over here please!" Professor McGonagall called.  
  
"Nice hat," said Angelina dryly, indicating McGonagall's rather awful hat, that was decorated with a wreath of thistles.  
  
"It's festive, anyway," said Fred, grinning.  
  
Angelina giggled, then stopped abruptly. Fleur Delacour glided by, with Roger Davies on her arm. He was staring at her with an expression of shock and glee on his face. Fred felt Angelina stiffen next to him, and he clutched her hand.  
  
"You okay, love?" he asked, looking at her face.  
  
She turned to him. "I'm okay," she said, not entirely convincingly.  
  
The students began to file into the Great Hall behind the four Triwizard Champions and their partners. Fred was amused to see Ron shooting murderous glances at Viktor Krum and longing ones at his partner, Hermione Granger, who was lovely in periwinkle-blue robes.  
  
The Great Hall was decorated to the hilt, but instead of the usual four long tables about a hundred or so smaller, round tables were spread about the room. Fred and Angelina found George, Alicia, Lee and Katie and joined them.  
  
"Nice, this," said Fred, looking round the room.  
  
"Yeah," said George. "And check this. Menus. Like we're in a bloody restaurant."  
  
Fred picked up one of the small cards and looked it over. Pork chops, lamb chops, steak, roast chicken, potatoes, rice, green beans, salad...all of it looked good to him. "How am I supposed to choose here? I'm starving. It all looks good."  
  
"So have all of it," said Angelina. "I'm going to."  
  
Fred grinned. "I love a woman with a healthy appetite."  
  
"I'm just fortifying myself," said Angelina. "The Weird Sisters are playing tonight, and I plan to dance until my legs fall off."  
  
"Uh oh," said George. "Angie, you DO know Fred can't dance?"  
  
"I can dance!" said Fred. "Well, sort of. I'm fine as long as I have plenty of room."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Fred threw down his spoon.  
  
"That's it," he said. "I'm done. I couldn't eat another bite if my life depended on it."  
  
"Well, I don't know why you're full," said Angelina dryly. "Seeing as you ate enough food to feed a small country."  
  
"Can't help it, Angie," said Fred, chucking her affectionately on the chin. "I'm a growing boy. Besides, you didn't do so badly yourself in the eating department."  
  
"I'm a growing girl," said Angelina coolly, but she smiled at him.  
  
"I like how you've grown so far," he said, winking and casting a quick glance at her lush bosom.  
  
"Fred," she said, rolling her eyes. "You pig." But she was grinning.  
  
"Really," said Alicia. "What is it with boys and breasts, anyway? What's so special about them?"  
  
"What?" said George. "Boys or breasts?"  
  
Alicia swatted him on the arm.  
  
"They're special because they're soft and pretty and we don't have them," said Lee. "Which is just as well, because if we did, we'd never get anything done. We'd just be fondling them all the time."  
  
"Too much information, Lee," said Alicia.  
  
"You asked, didn't you?" said Lee.  
  
"As fascinating as the subject of girl's body parts is," said Katie, "it looks like the Weird Sisters are setting up."  
  
"Cool," said Fred. "Always wanted to hear them live."  
  
Fred, Angelina and the rest of their table watched the band set up their instruments; the small tables cleared of food and dishes. Dumbledore stood up, indicating that everyone else do so, and when the whole of the Great Hall was on its feet, the small tables zoomed to the walls and out of the way, creating a huge dance floor.  
  
In the next moment, the Weird Sisters began to play. It was a slow, sad kind of song, and Fred felt a rush of amusement to see the four Triwizard champions head out onto the floor to start dancing. Fred chuckled.  
  
"Look at Harry," he said to Angelina. "Poor bloke doesn't have a clue what to do. Parvati's leading him."  
  
"Well, he's not stepping on her feet, anyway," said Angelina.  
  
"Can't say the same for Neville," said George, shaking his head. "Poor Ginny. Her feet'll swell up bigger than the rest of her before the night is over."  
  
"Shall we, Angie?" said Fred, offering her his arm.  
  
"Of course," she said, her eyes steadfastly avoiding Roger and Fleur.  
  
They found an empty space on the floor, and began to dance. Or, at least, Angelina began to dance. Fred froze up. He realized that he didn't know how to do THIS kind of dancing. Slow dancing.  
  
"Uh, Angie," he said uncertainly.  
  
"Oh ho, so who needs leading now?" said Angelina, grinning. She took his right arm and wrapped it round her waist, then took his left hand in her right and placed her left hand round his shoulder, and slowly began to lead him in small circles.  
  
"Ah," he said, grinning. "This isn't so bad."  
  
It wasn't. It was nice. Very nice. Angelina smelled heavenly, she looked gorgeous, and he had to admit, he liked having his hand on her back. Unconsciously he felt it move and snake beneath her robes. She moved just a bit closer to him. He moved closer to her. Her arm moved round his neck. He felt her breath on his ear. Before he knew it, they were pressed together very tightly, her head resting on his shoulder.  
  
Fred closed his eyes as he felt a familiar rush of blood to his lower regions and felt a tightening in his trousers. Sweet Merlin, he was aroused. Incredibly so. If she noticed, she didn't say anything. He didn't want to move. If he moved, she might feel his hardness against her. If she hadn't already.  
  
It was wrong. She was his best mate. She was still mourning over Roger Davies. She needed Fred as a friend; the last thing she needed was for her best mate in the world to get all horny over her.  
  
I can't help it, he thought. He couldn't. She looked so beautiful, and felt so wonderful in his arms, and smelled so good...  
  
Please don't let her notice I'm hard as a rock.  
  
She pressed closer to him and his erection brushed against her hip.  
  
She noticed.  
  
"Weasley," she murmured, her breath hot in his ear, "is that a wand in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" She chuckled.  
  
"Not funny," he said, torn between wanting to pull away from her to calm the raging in his trousers and afraid that if he did, everyone would see something protruding from beneath his robes. At least she wasn't offended. At least she was reverting to their usual friendly, flirtatious, naughty banter.  
  
"I'm flattered," she said, pulling her head off his shoulder and looking at him.  
  
"I'm glad you're flattered," he said, grimacing. "I'm in a bit of pain, myself."  
  
"Maybe you should think of Hagrid naked or something," she said, giggling.  
  
"Yuck," said Fred. "I don't have to think of him naked, I can just look at him in that yeti costume he's wearing."  
  
Fred did so, his eyes taking in Hagrid's awful, hairy brown suit, and he felt the swelling between his legs ease up. "Ah, much better."  
  
"I had no idea I had such an effect on you, Weasley," Angelina teased.  
  
"Give me a break," said Fred. "I haven't had any since Marietta, and you look fantastic and you smell delicious and...okay, I'm going to stop now, because I'm starting to stand at attention again." He looked resolutely at Hagrid, then at Mad-Eye Moody, and once again the swelling ebbed.  
  
Angelina laughed. "Nasty buggers, hormones," she said.  
  
"Aren't they, though?" said Fred, grinning. Okay, he'd survived that intact. Gotten an erection over his best mate and managed not to destroy their friendship. He was immensely relieved. Almost as relieved by her reaction as he was by the fact that his trousers weren't pressing on him anymore.  
  
The music changed to a fast, exuberant tune, and Angelina, who was still laughing, began to dance. Fred joined in, not so much dancing as throwing his arms and legs around, and people quickly got out of their way.  
  
Very soon Fred lost track of things. He realized he was having a good time, but not because of his dancing, if it could be called that. He was having a good time because Angelina was having a good time. She was laughing and twirling and for the first time, she was the girl he'd met all those years ago at the Sorting, the happy, fun-loving girl who hadn't had her heart broken by a cruel, selfish boy and hadn't had her confidence eroded by the fact that she was taller and more tomboyish than other girls.  
  
As they danced, Fred forgot pretty much everything, except her. He couldn't quite understand the feeling that came over him to see her happy for a change. Only that it made him happy, too.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Thank god," said Angelina, as she and Fred stepped out of the Great Hall and into the biting December air.  
  
"Hot in there," said Fred, taking a deep swig of punch. Angelina took a sip of hers and patted her forehead with her handkerchief.  
  
"Good workout, dancing," she said. "I must look a mess."  
  
"No way," said Fred. "You look fantastic."  
  
"Thanks," she said. "You don't look so bad yourself. I think the sweaty- hair look is definitely you."  
  
"Sweaty, frozen hair, you mean," said Fred, touching his wet hair, which had indeed begun to freeze. "I could get a chill out here, you know."  
  
"Not with this stuff," said Angelina, taking another sip of punch. "What'd you spike it with, anyway?"  
  
"A little of this, a little of that," said Fred mischievously. "McGonagall's certainly loosened up some."  
  
"It's good," said Angelina. "I feel warmer already."  
  
"I thought that lovely flush in your cheeks wasn't just because of dancing," said Fred, giving her another of his affectionate chucks on the chin.  
  
She smiled at him, but then her eyes moved to something behind him and seemed to freeze in place.  
  
"What?" Fred asked, but somehow, he knew the answer.  
  
He turned slowly, and followed her gaze to see Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies standing in the midst of a bare rose-bush, snogging heatedly. Fred turned back to Angelina hurriedly.  
  
"Angelina--" he began.  
  
"I'm fine," said Angelina. "I'm..." Her jaw was set and her eyes were wide and cold, but Fred saw it. The slightest quivering in her chin.  
  
"I'm not fine," she said, tearing her eyes away from Fleur and Davies.  
  
"Come on," he said firmly. "Let's go inside." He pulled her gently inside the castle and steered her back toward the Great Hall.  
  
"More punch," she said, finding her feet and walking straight for the nearly overflowing punch bowl.  
  
"Uh oh," Fred muttered, and he started after her, when suddenly a girl stepped into his path. The very last girl he wanted to see.  
  
"Hello, Frederick."  
  
"Marietta."  
  
"Having a good time?" she asked sweetly.  
  
"Lovely," said Fred. "So, which vampire agreed to come with you tonight?"  
  
"Cute," said Marietta, her eyes flashing dangerously. "I always did hate your sense of humor, Frederick."  
  
"I'm crushed, really," said Fred, his eyes on Angelina, who had already filled her cup once with punch, drained it and filled it again. At the rate she was going she'd be three sheets to the wind in a matter of minutes. Not good.  
  
"So, Frederick, how are things going with Angelina?" said Marietta, twirling a lock of her blonde hair in her fingers. "I heard about her and Davies. Awful, really. She must have been so devastated--"  
  
"Look, Marietta," said Fred hotly, annoyed and furious at the way she pretended to show concern for Angelina when in fact she felt no such thing, "I'm busy right now. Excuse me." He started toward Angelina and the punch bowl, but Marietta blocked his path.  
  
"Right," said Marietta. "Taking care of poor Angelina. I'm sure a good shag from you will make her forget all about Roger."  
  
"You really have no idea what you're talking about," said Fred. "Why don't you go find some other bloodsucking parasites to hang out with, yeah? I'm going to go hang out with my date. Goodbye."  
  
He stalked away from her, trying to ignore her smug expression. He reached Angelina in time to see her filling her punch cup for a third time.  
  
"Good stuff, this," she said, her words already slurring.  
  
"Angie," said Fred, in a warning kind of voice. But he was so annoyed and angry at his confrontation with Marietta that part of him wanted to get good and drunk himself.  
  
"Have some," she said, shoving her cup at him. "You look like you could use some, after talking to...what's her name."  
  
"Angie, maybe we shouldn't--"  
  
"Drown our sorrows?" said Angelina. "Nonsense. I'm having a lovely time, Fred. Feel like a million Galleons. I sure do hate to feel this good all by myself." She was speaking in measured phrases, like one who is trying to sound sober but not succeeding at it.  
  
"Go on, have some," she said, smiling at him.  
  
Fred took the cup and down the contents. "What the hell," he said, filling the cup again. 


	11. Chapter Eleven: Drunk and Disorderly

Chapter Eleven: Drunk and Disorderly  
  
"I like your room, Fred," said Angelina, giggling drunkenly. They were in his empty dormroom, for reasons Fred couldn't quite figure out. Somehow they had just ended up there. The room was empty. Fred knew why. George and Alicia were...somewhere else, as were Lee and Katie.  
  
"I'm glad you like it, Angie," said Fred, stumbling over a pile of his clothes and laughing.  
  
He was in a good mood now. Angelina's suggestion to get trolleyed on punch hadn't seemed like a good idea at first (Fred generally avoided getting drunk when he was angry, because it only made him more belligerent), but now he was feeling pretty good. The room was spinning a bit, he was having a little trouble walking. There were three, no, four Angelinas in front of him.  
  
"Angie," he said slowly. "I think I'm drunk."  
  
She giggled. "I'm drunk, too!"  
  
"There are four of you," said Fred happily. "Cool." He stumbled over to his bed, tripped again over the pile of clothes, and fell onto the bed.  
  
"Need to sit," he mumbled.  
  
"Me, too," she said, collapsing onto the bed next to him.  
  
"Happy Chrishmash, Angie," said Fred, grinning lopsidedly at her. There were two of her now.  
  
"I forgot...your Christmas present," said Angelina. "Damn."  
  
"Sh'okay," he said. "I forgot yours, too."  
  
"That's no good," said Angelina, swatting him with a flopping hand. "We're supposed to be mates! Mates get each other Christmas presents."  
  
"You're my Christmas present," said Fred, pulling her into a hug and mussing her hair.  
  
"Fred, my hair!" Angelina shrieked, giggling. Several tiny braids came out of the twist, leaving her hair half-up and half down.  
  
"Doeshn't matter," he said. "We're not going anywhere."  
  
"I have to go to my room," said Angelina, but she made no move to get up. Instead she kicked off her shoes. "I can't get up." She began to giggle.  
  
"You're drunk," he said, pointing at her and grinning.  
  
"I'm not drunk, YOU'RE drunk!" she said, pointing at him and laughing.  
  
"Angie's a lush," said Fred, in a sing-song voice. "Angie's a lush."  
  
"I'm not drunk!" she said again, laughing. "Okay, I'm drunk. Really REALLY drunk." She giggled and mussed his hair.  
  
"Hey!" he shouted, laughing, and suddenly they were wrestling and laughing and rolling round on his bed. She rolled on top of him and straddled him, looking down at him and smiling wickedly.  
  
"Got you," she said.  
  
"You got me," Fred agreed, noticing that the room had stopped spinning, feeling her on top of him, seeing her dress hitched up her smooth brown thighs. He swallowed and felt a stirring in his trousers.  
  
"Ooh," said Angelina. "What's that?"  
  
THAT was the return of the Raging Erection.  
  
"That is my magic wand," said Fred, grinning wickedly and drunkenly at her.  
  
"Impressive," she said. "That you can get it up...when you're so smashed."  
  
"I can ALWAYS get it up," said Fred, moving his hips under hers.  
  
"Mmm, you naughty boy," said Angelina, and she pressed her crotch against his.  
  
Her face was inches from his; her features blurred, came into focus, blurred again. His hips were moving slowly, his arousal rubbing at her crotch. Somewhere in the recesses of his alcohol-impaired brain he knew he shouldn't be doing this. That it wasn't a good idea to be rubbing his rock hard member against his best mate's crotch.  
  
But it felt really good. Fred felt really good.  
  
"I'm so horny," said Angelina, giggling.  
  
"Mmm," said Fred, moving his hands to her hips and gripping them to grind against her. "Me, too."  
  
"Ooh," she said again, giggling and leaning over him, her face hovering above his. "So hard."  
  
"All your fault," said Fred, grinding against her harder and grinning and groaning and blinking because her face kept going blurry on him. Her face went REALLY blurry when she leaned over him and kissed him.  
  
He felt her tongue in his mouth and sighed. He was tired, but he was hard and horny and well, being tired and drunk out of his mind had never stopped him from having a good shag in the past. At least, he was pretty sure about that.  
  
Okay, so he shouldn't really be shagging Angelina, should he? But really, what harm could it do? They were mates, right? They were horny. Surely their friendship could survive a little sex. Fred hadn't gotten laid in months. Not since Marietta.  
  
"Fuck me," said Angelina, her voice bleary, her words slurred. Well, she certainly wanted to. Who was he to say no?  
  
"Okay," said Fred, laughing and rolling her over onto her back.  
  
"Wait," she said. "Curtains."  
  
"Oh, yeah," said Fred. It wouldn't do to be in the middle of a good shag and have the other blokes come in. Fred pulled the curtains shut. He fumbled in his robes for his wand and put an Imperturbable Charm on the drapes, then dropped his wand on the floor.  
  
"C'mere," said Angelina, reaching up for him and pulling him down onto her.  
  
They began to kiss. It was nice, except that the room was spinning so badly now that Fred kept missing her lips. She giggled and ran a hand weakly through his hair, then let her left arm settle round his shoulders. Her right arm was splayed out limply on the bed.  
  
Fred kissed her neck wetly, slipped his right arm under her neck, and his left hand moved clumsily to her breasts.  
  
"Love these," he said, smiling. "Best ever." He fondled her lush breasts and nuzzled them with his face, burying himself in the soft golden brown swell of flesh. She was soft, so very soft. He could fall asleep with his head resting on those beautiful breasts.  
  
"Feels...nice," she said, and sighed. She became still.  
  
"Soft," said Fred, and he closed his eyes and drifted, his left hand resting on her breast, his right arm beneath her.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Fred was flying. Angelina was in front of him, and they were riding tandem on a Firebolt. Fred didn't have a Firebolt, so it must belong to Angelina. She was laughing. He loved her laugh. He laughed, too, and she did a few somersaults and rolls on the broom, causing both them to shriek and yell and laugh some more. The wind was blowing; wisps of her hair were ticking his face, under his nose...  
  
Fred blinked, then closed his eyes again, caught between sleep and wakefulness. His eyes opened again, and he saw deep red velvet. His curtains.  
  
He was on his bed. Something was tickling his cheek. He reached up weakly to brush it away. Hair. Not his hair.  
  
He tried to lift his head, but his head was very, very heavy. It must weigh ten stone or more, he thought. He tried lifting it again. A sharp pain shot through his skill, beginning between his eyes and spreading out like a million razor-sharp tentacles.  
  
"Ow," he groaned softly, and the sound was strange to his ears and the vibrations in his throat hurt. His throat was a desert. His right arm was going numb, the pins and needles prickling him. His lips felt raw. His eyes were cloudy and unfocused. He could see deep red velvet, but there was something else, something very close to him. He couldn't see what it was. It was blurry. He hurt all over.  
  
Except his left hand. That didn't feel so bad. It was resting on something soft and round. He moved the fingers of his left. Whatever this thing was in his hand, it was nice.  
  
His eyes strained to focus. He was lying next to something. Something soft and warm. He didn't really want to move, but his eyes seemed to want to open, so he kept them open.  
  
Things came into focus. He was lying on his bed. Next to Angelina. His right arm was underneath her. His left hand...  
  
His eyes widened and he yanked his hand away from Angelina's breast.  
  
"Shit," he said out loud, as his head began to pound, his stomach to roil, and the events of last night's drinking binge came back to him.  
  
Sort of. He couldn't really remember all of them. He remembered coming back to his room. He vaguely remembered she had been on top of him at one point. Oh, boy.  
  
He touched his lips. Yes, he remembered kissing her. And clearly he'd managed to get a feel of her breasts, judging by the position of his left hand when he'd woken up.  
  
Merlin, please tell me that's all we did, he thought. He looked himself over (as best he could, anyway, his right arm was still underneath her shoulders and he didn't want to yank it away and startle her). He was fully clothed. Not even his robes were off.  
  
She was fully clothed. Well, she HAD taken off her robes and shoes but her dress was on. Completely zipped up. Not torn in any places that he could see.  
  
He looked down at her. She was sleeping soundly, her mouth slightly open. His eyes traveled to the swell of her breasts--they were simply too irresistible to avoid gazing at--and he clenched the fist of his left hand to keep from fondling her. But then he saw a small spot of saliva above her right breast.  
  
"Nice one," he thought, feeling ridiculous. He'd always been a bit of a drooler when he slept off a night of drinking, only this time he'd managed to drool on her. He took a bit of his robe in his left hand and very gently began to wipe his saliva from her skin.  
  
"Fred, what are you doing?"  
  
Fred's hand stopped moving and he looked at her face. She was fully awake, and staring at his left hand, which was now resting on her right breast. He pulled it away, quickly.  
  
"Uh," he said stupidly.  
  
"Shit," she said, blinking and rubbing her eyes. "What am I doing in your bed?"  
  
"Uh," he said again.  
  
"Shit," said Angelina, looking at him. She sat up abruptly, then rolled over, collapsing onto the bed again, rolling off his very numb arm.  
  
"Oh, god," she moaned. "My fucking head feels like it's going to explode."  
  
"Angie," he said.  
  
"What happened?" she said, turning quickly to him, her eyes full of fear. "Tell me we didn't--"  
  
"We didn't," he said quickly. "But, uh, I think we...tried to."  
  
Angelina's eyes widened, then she closed them. "So that explains why your hand was on my boobs."  
  
Fred's face went scarlet. "Uh, I think so," he said. Then he began to talk very fast. "I think we passed out, Ange. I remember coming back here with you and we were talking, I think, and somehow we started kissing but then we both passed out. I think. Do you remember?"  
  
"I remember kissing," said Angelina. "And...oh shit. I was on top of you! I think. And then I was lying on the bed." She moaned and clutched her head. Fred sat up slowly, trying to quell his own pain and nausea.  
  
"Okay," said Fred, trying to remain calm. "Nothing happened. Not really. We're both still fully clothed."  
  
"Right," said Angelina, looking at him doubtfully.  
  
"So we couldn't have done it," said Fred. "I mean, it makes no sense, does it? For us to do it and then put all our clothes back on? No way."  
  
Angelina looked more convinced. "Yeah, you're right."  
  
"Okay," he said again, feeling relief creep into his face.  
  
"But, Fred, that doesn't explain why your hand was on my boobs," she pointed out.  
  
"Oh," said Fred. "Uh, well, I s'pose I must have, uh, given them a feel...or something, and fallen asleep."  
  
"Fred, you were rubbing my right boob this morning," said Angelina pointedly.  
  
"I was getting the drool off you!" he said defensively.  
  
"The...drool?" said Angelina. Fred felt his face go from scarlet to near- purple.  
  
"Uh, well, I...sort of...uh, drooled on your chest," he said, looking down at his hands. "I, uh, do that sometimes. When I'm sleeping off, you know."  
  
Angelina stared at him. Fred gritted his teeth and waited for him to slap her. Instead she burst into laughter.  
  
"What?" he said.  
  
"Oh...my god," she gasped, laughing and holding her head. Her face was contorted with a mixture of amusement and hangover-headache pain.  
  
"What?" Fred demanded, now feeling defensive.  
  
"You drooled on me!" she said, laughing and pointing at him, then she moaned and clutched her head again.  
  
"Yeah, so?" said Fred. "I didn't mean to. You don't have to make fun. It's a little embarrassing, you know."  
  
Angelina's laughter subsided into faint giggles, and she put a hand on his stubbly cheek.  
  
"Sorry," she said, but she began to giggle harder. "Oh, my god, everything is so funny this morning for some reason!" And then she was laughing and trying to talk.  
  
"Yesterday," she gasped, "yesterday I was so miserable about everything and then you asked me to the ball and we went and you told me I looked gorgeous and we ate like pigs...and...and...we danced and...you got all...worked up...and it was so sweet!"  
  
Fred goggled at her, and wondered if she was still feeling the effects of the punch.  
  
"Sweet?" he said. "Me getting a hard on while we were dancing was 'sweet?'"  
  
"Uh huh!" she said, still laughing, so hard now that tears were streaming down her face. "And then we danced our legs off and then we went outside and I saw Roger and what's her name and I felt all bad and then we got good and drunk and...and...I remember, I didn't get upset after that! I mean, when I was drinking I thought, you know...what if I drink and I wind up having one of those stupid drunk crying episodes? But I didn't...I just had fun...and then we came back here and we were so...DRUNK! I can't believe we tried to shag! And then you drooled on me and wiped it off me!"  
  
She clutched her sides and rolled over onto the bed, laughing so hard that no sound was coming out of her now.  
  
Fred stared at her, wondering if perhaps she had gone slightly mad.  
  
"Angie," he said slowly. "Uh, are you...sure you're okay?"  
  
"Fred!" she said, sitting up quickly. Her hand flew to her head. "Ow. Look, Fred, don't you get it? I had a GOOD TIME with you, okay, and it doesn't matter if we tried to shag, because in the end we didn't."  
  
"You are really strange," he said, shaking his head. "Look, aren't you just a little concerned about--"  
  
"About what?" she said, her laughter gone now, her face soft. "I haven't felt so good in ages, Fred. So we got drunk and did something stupid. So what?"  
  
"We WERE pretty drunk," said Fred.  
  
"We never would have tried to shag if we hadn't been," said Angelina.  
  
"True," said Fred, feeling better about the whole thing. "You really had a good time?"  
  
"The best," she said. "My head feels like it's in a vise and my neck is stiff and I ought to slap your left hand for feeling me up but I had a good time."  
  
"Even though--"  
  
"Even though I saw Roger with Fleur," said Angelina. "I mean, it still hurts a bit. More than a bit. But...last night was the first time since we broke up that I saw him with her and I didn't break down crying."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really," she said. "Because of you."  
  
Fred grinned. "Wow. So I was a good date, then."  
  
"The best," she said, and she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. He pulled her into a hug, and they stayed that way for a while. Fred tried to ignore the way her breasts pressed against his chest. It didn't work, but at least he was sitting down and she couldn't see certain things start to bulge.  
  
She pulled back from him and smiled. "Thanks," she said, ruffling his hair.  
  
"My pleasure," he said. He held out his left hand. "Go ahead, give it a slap."  
  
"Fred, come on," she said, rolling her eyes.  
  
"I mean it, Angie, give it a slap," he said. "I deserve it."  
  
"No," she said.  
  
"Angie, slap my stupid hand, would you?" he said firmly.  
  
"No!" she said, laughing. "Fred--"  
  
"Fine, don't slap it," he said, and he pulled his hand back, and gazed at it lovingly. "I'll always treasure this hand. The hand that felt up the most luscious, most gorgeous breasts in all of--"  
  
She grabbed his hand and slapped it.  
  
"Ow," he said.  
  
"Had to be done," said Angelina. "Or else you never would have shut up."  
  
"Fair enough," said Fred. "But I'm never washing this hand again."  
  
________________________________________________________________________  
  
A/N: Just a little note to say that the naughtiness quotient is going up in the next chapters. Fred and Angelina keep coming up with all kinds of excuses as to why they're not together. 


	12. Chapter Twelve: Just Friends vs Somethin...

Chapter Twelve: Just Friends vs. Something More  
  
"Here we are, Twin. Our last year at this august institution," said George, shaking his head, as they got up from the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.  
  
"Thank god for small favors," said Fred. "I have to say, I'm getting right sick of school."  
  
"I don't like the look of that new Dark Arts teacher at all," said Alicia Spinnet.  
  
"Looks like a fat toad," said Angelina, "and what's all that rot about 'changes' and what?"  
  
"Umbridge," said Fred thoughtfully. "Umbridge...wait a minute. I know who she is. She used to be at the Ministry. Dad mentioned her, remember George?"  
  
"She was at Harry's hearing," said George, remembering. "She was working closely with Fudge."  
  
"If she's close to Fudge you know what that means," said Lee darkly.  
  
"Miss Johnson."  
  
Angelina, Fred, Lee, Alicia, George and Katie all spun round. Professor McGonagall stood behind them, looking as imperious and severe as ever.  
  
"Yes, Professor?" said Angelina, stepping forward. She and McGonagall were now of a height; probably the two tallest women in Hogwarts.  
  
"I would like to speak with you in private," she said, her voice betraying no emotion. "In my office."  
  
Angelina glanced nervously at Fred, who grinned at her, then at Professor McGonagall.  
  
"What's she done, Professor?" he asked cheekily.  
  
"Shut up, Fred," Angelina hissed, trying not to smile.  
  
"You'll find out all you need to know soon enough, Mr. Weasley," said McGonagall. "Miss Johnson?"  
  
McGonagall turned on her heel and swept out of the Great Hall. Angelina looked at Fred, who shrugged, and she followed McGonagall sheepishly out into the corridor.  
  
"What was that all about, I wonder?" said George.  
  
"Dunno," said Fred. "But usually when McGonagall wants to speak to you in private it's nothing good."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Fred was sitting in the common room playing a game of Exploding Snap with Lee when he heard somebody burst into the common room. It was Angelina.  
  
"Hey," he said, standing up quickly just as several cards exploded. "What happened?"  
  
"I have to talk to you," said Angelina shortly, giving Lee a quick grin. She walked right up to Fred, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him toward the portrait hole.  
  
"Hey, Johnson, Fred and I WERE in the middle of a game, you know," said Lee.  
  
Angelina shot Fred a pleading look, and he turned back to Lee.  
  
"I won't be long, mate," he said. "Get George to play."  
  
"He's off snogging Alicia somewhere," said Lee. "Never mind. I'll ask Ron."  
  
Fred followed Angelina out of the portrait hole.  
  
"So where are we going?" he asked.  
  
"McGonagall's classroom," she said, and said nothing else until they had, in fact, reached the Transfiguration classroom. Angelina pushed open the door and shoved her way into the darkened room, and Fred followed her, wondering just what she was on about.  
  
She shut the door behind her and turned to look at him.  
  
"What?" he asked her. "What's up? Did McGonagall give you fifty detentions or something?"  
  
"No," said Angelina. Her normally coffee and cream face was ashen.  
  
"Angie, what's wrong?" said Fred, now concerned.  
  
"Uh, well," she said slowly, "I guess...McGonagall just told me I'm Quidditch captain."  
  
Fred's jaw dropped, and there was a long moment of silence.  
  
"For real?" he said. "Captain?"  
  
Angelina opened her mouth to speak, couldn't seem to do it, and settled for nodding. Then she broke into a very sheepish sort of smile.  
  
"Angie, that's brilliant!" said Fred, and he grabbed her round the waist, lifted her off the floor and twirled her in a bear hug. She was laughing. He was so happy for her that before he knew he was doing it, he kissed her on the lips.  
  
Angelina gasped in her throat, but she didn't pull away immediately.  
  
Comprehension flooded his brain and he quickly let go of her and broke the kiss before it completely ventured into the non-platonic. But as he pulled away his lips were tingling.  
  
"Sorry," he said quickly, feeling his neck get hot.  
  
"It's okay," she said, looking at the floor.  
  
Fred mentally cursed himself. How many times had this happened in the past several months? Ever since their drunken attempt at shagging after the Yule Ball last year, their relationship seemed to have been on edge. Fred was walking an increasingly thinner line with her that teetered on the brink, between Just Friends and Something More. He told himself that to explore Something More with her would ultimately be disastrous. He didn't want to risk losing her friendship. Wasn't that the reason they had never dated?  
  
And yet here they were, yet again explaining away another "accidental" kiss that had behind it feelings that went beyond the platonic. This had been happening with increasing frequency lately. They would be talking, laughing, joking with one another, flirting, and by some coincidence, their lips would touch accidentally on purpose. Fred could never really determine how it happened or who initiated it, but it had happened quite a bit.  
  
She and Fred had always managed to brush off their kisses as expressions of friendly affection, and after a few awkward minutes, things went back to normal.  
  
Except that things were not normal, not to Fred, at least. He was slowly, painfully becoming aware of how difficult it was to control his ever- present attraction for Angelina. He had tried dating other girls, had shagged a few, but the experiences and the girls themselves were forgettable and even regretful. Fred realized that however horny he might be, sex with a girl he didn't care much for didn't hold a lot of allure. The initial excitement gave way to a kind of restlessness afterward, the sense that he hadn't had a very good time, that something was missing.  
  
He knew that Angelina, too, had dated a bit. She had had a summer fling with Eddie Carmichael, a Ravenclaw sixth year, but that had fizzled out, and Fred got the sense that she hadn't been all that into it. Ever since her heartbreak over Roger Davies (who, to Fred's great delight, Fleur had dumped in favor of his oldest brother Bill), she had been extremely cautious about opening her heart to anyone. Except Fred. But her openness with him had its limits. Platonic limits. Fred guessed that she, too, was still attracted to him, but that she would never pursue Something More with him. That fact bothered him. Even hurt a bit.  
  
The silence between Fred and Angelina stretched, and he forced himself to look at her. He was overcome with the urge to kiss her again. Really kiss her. He didn't. Instead he cleared his throat and fought past the latest episode in an increasing number of awkward episodes between them.  
  
"I can't believe it," he said, looking at the floor again. "No, wait, yes I can. You're only the best Chaser on the team."  
  
She seemed relieved by his words; she gave a sigh and jumped back into Just Friends mode.  
  
"Fred," said Angelina. "Shit. I'm so nervous! I wasn't supposed to tell anyone until tomorrow but...I had to tell you."  
  
"I'm honored," said Fred, grinning, trying to ignore an uncomfortable pressing in his chest. "Wow. Captain. That is so cool."  
  
"I guess," she said, and she began to worry her hands. "I mean, I have big shoes to fill. Wood was a great captain and we won the Cup that year and--"  
  
"Angie," said Fred, taking her shoulders in his hands, "you'll be fine. Better than fine. You'll be excellent."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah," he said, brushing his hand across her cheek softly. He meant the gesture to be reassuring, but his hand tingled, and her eyes met his, and once again the urge to kiss her crashed over him. She blinked and pulled away.  
  
"Try-outs are Friday," she said. "We need a new Keeper."  
  
Fred cleared his throat again and fought his way back to the land of Just Friends.  
  
"Be there with bells on," said Fred. "Well, maybe not with bells on."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Dammit," said Angelina furiously, as she paced round the Gryffindor Quidditch tent. The rest of the team watched her anxiously. All except Harry Potter, who was serving detention with Professor Umbridge, and Katie Bell, who was just outside helping people sign up for the try-outs.  
  
"Angie, come on," said Fred, watching her pace. "It's not that bad. So Harry's in detention. We can manage without him."  
  
"I know," said Angelina, throwing up her hands. "Just...dammit. We haven't played in a year, Fred. No Quidditch last year--I mean, sure, the Triwizard and all, but look how THAT turned out. Cedric wound up dead and half the school thinks Harry and Dumbledore are nutters. I missed playing, you know? I just want the team to be great. It'll be tough to replace Oliver, that's all."  
  
Katie appeared inside the tent.  
  
"We're all set, Angelina," she said. "A pretty good group of people. Ball chest is all set up."  
  
"Right, then," she said. "Let's do this." She checked for the whistle that was hanging round her neck (she'd done this a dozen times already).  
  
She picked up her broom--a Nimbus 2001 (she'd gotten it last year)--and led her teammates out onto the pitch.  
  
Fred squinted against the sunlight and then stopped dead in his tracks; George ran right into him.  
  
"Holy--" George began.  
  
"--shit," finished Fred.  
  
"RON?" they both said, looking at each other, then back at their younger (albeit taller) brother, who was clutching his new Cleansweep tightly in his hands and looking like he was about to throw up.  
  
"Oi!" said George. "Ickle Ronnie! What're you doing here?"  
  
"George, don't," said Alicia.  
  
"H-hi," said Ron, his eyes on his shoes. "Just, uh, thought I'd give this a try."  
  
George snorted; Alicia swatted him on the arm. "I think it's great, Ron," she said fervently, giving George a dirty look.  
  
"Just be careful up there, Ickle Prefect," said Fred, winking at him. "Don't fall off your broom or anything."  
  
"Shut up," said Ron, turning crimson. Fred and George both clapped him on the back. Ron looked thoroughly miserable. Fred felt a bit guilty. It wasn't really cool to tease Ron on the day of a Quidditch try-out. And Ron wasn't too shabby a Keeper, anyway.  
  
"Piece of cake, Ron," said Fred quickly, clapping him on the back.  
  
"No sweat, Ronnie," said George.  
  
"Okay," said Angelina in a clear voice. "Let's just go down the list here. We'll start with Frobisher, Vicky."  
  
A girl with golden brown hair to her chin stepped forward, and she followed Angelina and the other players out onto the pitch.  
  
"Let's get up there, yeah?" said Angelina. "Vicky, take your position at the goal."  
  
Vicky Frobisher mounted her broom and kicked off from the ground, flying neatly and smoothly to the goal hoops. She had an easy, confident way of flying.  
  
Angelina signalled to the team and they all shot up into the air; Angelina had the Quaffle under her arm.  
  
"I'll release the Quaffle," Angelina yelled. "Ready, Vicky?"  
  
Vicky gave a thumbs-up, and Angelina threw the Quaffle to Alicia, and the try-outs began.  
  
Vicky was a strong contender, Fred saw. She blocked most of the goals and neatly dodged the Bludgers he and George sent her way. After about twenty minutes Angelina blew her whistle, and Vicky Frobisher's try-out was finished.  
  
The six of them flew to the ground; Vicky trooped back to the benches where other Quidditch hopefuls sat.  
  
"Next up," Angelina called, all business, "Hooper, Geoffrey."  
  
Fred recognized Geoffrey Hooper from Quidditch try outs all those years ago. Fred recalled that Alicia had referred to him as a "whiner."  
  
Alicia's assessment was correct; Hooper complained about everything. Fred was amazed Hooper had the concentration to block as many goals as he did (probably about 80% worth of them). He was a capable flyer, but by the end of the twenty minutes Fred and George had both made rather more attempts to unseat him with Bludgers than they'd made with Vicky Frobisher.  
  
They landed again, and Hooper took to the benches. Several more hopefuls came along, including Colin Creevey (who was dreadful) and Seamus Finnegan (who flew well but wasn't fast enough to block enough goals) and even Parvati Patil (who was better than Fred ever would have imagined, in terms of flying, but not so much in terms of keeping goal).  
  
At last, it was Ron's turn. Ron gulped and Fred seriously wondered if his little brother would in fact vomit before he even got into the air, but Ron simply swallowed again, mounted his Cleansweep and took his position in front of the goals.  
  
Angelina blew her whistle once more, and the try-out commenced. Fred watched as Ron blocked many of the goals. He wasn't as good as Frobisher or Hooper, but he was working hard, and he'd managed to avoid almost every Bludger (one grazed his shoulder and knocked him out of position, which allowed a Quaffle through a hoop). It was clear that Ron had been practicing; he had a good feel for his broom and for the most part, he kept his mind on what he was doing. Ron's height and long limbs also gave him an advantage--he had a longer reach than anyone else who'd been up today. He would be a good enough Keeper, with a little work.  
  
Angelina blew her whistle a final time, and the six players descended, Ron bringing up the rear.  
  
Once on the ground Angelina led them back to the line of Keeper hopefuls and announced briskly that results would be posted tomorrow evening on the common room notice board.  
  
Fred and George gave Ron the thumbs up as he headed back toward the castle. He still looked slightly sick and he was trembling.  
  
"Let's get into the tent, yeah?" said Angelina, motioning her teammates to the Gryffindor tent.  
  
Fred took a seat next to George on the bench inside the tent as Angelina stood in front of them.  
  
"It would have been easier to do this with Harry here but as he's not, he'll just have to live with our decision," said Angelina. "And I want it to be everyone's decision, not just mine."  
  
There were appreciative nods and murmurs at this.  
  
"Right," Angelina went on. "Only a few good ones out there. Vicky Frobisher was the best flyer today, I think. Agreed?"  
  
Nods of agreement.  
  
"Problem is," said Angelina, "she's already committed to all sorts of clubs, and she told me point blank that her Charms club takes precedence over everything else, including Quidditch."  
  
"Well, THAT'S not on," said George.  
  
"No, it's not," said Angelina. "It's my last year and my only year as captain and maybe I'm being selfish but I want a teammate who puts the team first."  
  
"Hear, hear," said Fred firmly. Angelina grinned at him.  
  
"So, that's a no on Frobisher," said Angelina, and there were more nods of agreement.  
  
"That brings us to the next possible candidate, Hooper," she went on. The sound of his name elicited groans from everyone.  
  
"It wouldn't do to have a teammate we want to murder all the time," Fred said dryly.  
  
"Hooper's such a crybaby, isn't he?" said Alicia. "Hasn't changed a bit since second year."  
  
"No on Hooper, then," said Angelina. "I don't need the headaches, that for certain."  
  
There was a pause as everyone nodded.  
  
"The only other person who showed any skill at all today was Ron Weasley," said Angelina. "He's not brilliant, he'll need some work, but it's obvious he wants to be on the team, it's obvious he'll work hard. With some training I think he'll be good. His height helps him, he has a good broom. He comes from a family of excellent Quidditch players."  
  
"Why, thank you, Angelina," said George solemnly.  
  
Angelina rolled her eyes and smiled. "If there are no objections, I'd like Ron on the team."  
  
"No objections here," said Fred, smiling wickedly.  
  
"And we're more than DELIGHTED to be in charge of Ickle Ronnie's training," said George, winking.  
  
"No," said Angelina firmly, but she was trying not to smile. "That's Harry's job, thanks. The two of you'll just make fun of him. Besides, Harry owes us for getting himself in detention when he knew he was supposed to be here."  
  
"Damn," said Fred. "Oh well, we can save it for parties, then."  
  
"So," said Angelina, "I guess with Ron as Keeper, we've got our team."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Lessee, with the upfront sales of the Skiving Snackboxes, twelve pre- orders of Fever Fudge, seven upfront sales of Fainting Fancies, two dozen orders of Canary Creams..."  
  
Fred dipped his quill into his inkpot again and worked out the figures on a very worn piece of parchment.  
  
"What have we got?" George asked, as he and Lee peered over Fred's shoulder.  
  
"Excellent," said Fred, grinning. "That's forty-two Galleons in ready cash and another twelve Galleons and twenty Sickles in pre-orders."  
  
"Cool!" said Lee.  
  
"Very cool," said George. "Twin, we are geniuses."  
  
"Naturally," said Fred. "Now, all we have to do is solve the little problem with the Fever Fudge before it goes to market..."  
  
"I thought you two had worked that out," said Lee, returning to his bed and looking down carelessly at his Herbology homework.  
  
"No, that was the Puking Pastilles for the Skiving Snackboxes," said George.  
  
"Let's just say the Fever Fudge has a very unpleasant side effect that makes it painful to sit down," said Fred, grimacing with the memory of the horrible boils that he and George had come down with while testing that particular product.  
  
"Testing our products would be a lot easier if Hermione would just let us hire some testers," said George. "My arse is still sore from the Fever Fudge experience."  
  
"Hermione Granger, break the rules?" said Lee, rolling his eyes.  
  
"She breaks rules all the time," Fred scoffed. "How many times has she gone off gallivanting with Harry and our brother?"  
  
"Be nice if she could charm Ron to be good at Keeping," George muttered.  
  
"Don't get me started," said Fred. "Honestly, what's his problem anyway?"  
  
"He's not so bad," said Lee.  
  
"No, he really IS so bad," said George. "I mean, he can do it if nobody's paying attention. But then he gets all nervous and cocks everything up."  
  
"It doesn't help that the Slytherins are taking the mickey out of him every other minute," said Fred.  
  
"You take the mickey out of him all the time!" said Lee. "What's the difference?"  
  
"The difference is, he's our little brother," said George, "so we're allowed. The Slytherins are a bunch of snot-nosed toerags, which means they're not allowed."  
  
"Makes sense, I guess," said Lee.  
  
"Malfoy's particularly loathsome this year," said Fred. "Must be because his dad's buying off half the Ministry."  
  
"You know, between that Umbridge cow not teaching us defense and Quidditch sucking eggs and everything else, I'm beginning to wonder just why we stay," said George.  
  
Lee and Fred said nothing. This was not the first time George had expressed this sentiment, and it was hardly the first time Fred himself had not felt it. The year had thus far not been going all that well. True, they were making a fine success of their joke products business, and with the Triwizard earnings Harry had given them, they were in a position to rent premises, even to afford such premises in Diagon Alley, where rents ran high. From the moment Harry had told Fred and George he was giving them his winnings, Fred had entertained grand notions of a seventh and final year at Hogwarts that would outclass all others in terms of mischief-making and simple joy at knowing that he was nearly free of the confines of school.  
  
It hadn't quite worked out that way. The arrival of Umbridge, the denial of the Ministry to You-Know-Who's return, and Umbridge's ever-tightening control over the school had made this year far less fun than Fred could have imagined. The only real joys left were Quidditch--though the charms of the game were losing their allure, considering how poorly Ron was doing for them--and producing new products for the shop.  
  
Fred rolled up the scroll of figures and started on his Potions homework, but his mind began to drift almost at once. No, there weren't that many things about Hogwarts that Fred liked anymore. He knew he was only staying in school out of consideration for his mother. Ever since Percy had turned into the World's Biggest Prat, Fred couldn't bear to upset his mother. Well, not too much. She would never approve of the joke shop, but perhaps she would accept it if Fred and George finished out school without making too much of a mess of things.  
  
Except that every day it became harder and harder for Fred to WANT to stay at school. Not even having Angelina around was doing much for Fred's mood. If anything, it was worse. Their relationship, on the surface, was the same as always. But underneath it had grown tense.  
  
Fred knew why, at least mostly. For his part, it was his own damn feelings for her. He didn't want to admit it to himself, because every time he did it felt like he was wrenching his own heart out of his chest, but he was falling in love with her. Or perhaps, he had always been in love with her, but was only now realizing it.  
  
Whatever the answer, it had become near agony to be around her; Fred sought excuses to spend less time with her. Except that NOT being around her brought no relief, either. When he wasn't around her he missed her terribly. He felt trapped in a situation that was slowly becoming untenable.  
  
Angelina, for her part, had become short-tempered and irritable. Fred didn't kid himself that it had anything to do with her feelings for him. No, it was due to the pressures of being the captain of the team, the pressures of the studying for N.E.W.Ts, the pressures of preparing herself for a career when she still wasn't quite sure just what career she wanted.  
  
Fred blinked and realized he had read and re-read the same line of text in his Potions textbook for an eighth time. It was no good. He couldn't concentrate.  
  
"I'm going to the library," he announced. "For, uh, more market research stuff."  
  
Lee and George both waved at him; by now they were used to Fred ducking into the library. Ironic that the one place Fred had avoided like the plague for so long was becoming the one place that brought him some comfort. At least in the library he could hide himself in a corner and read books that interested him and pull his mind away from the strain of his seventh year.  
  
Except that as Fred sat down at his favorite table in the library and pulled open 101 Most Famous Wizard Gag Gifts, all he could think about was the softness of Angelina's lips when he'd kissed her, that evening in McGonagall's classroom. 


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Trying Not to Fall

Chapter Thirteen: Trying Not to Fall  
  
Fred lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.  
  
Banned. He was banned from playing Quidditch. He, George and Harry.  
  
The joy of beating Slytherin in their match that afternoon seemed as though it had never existed. Only minutes after winning, Malfoy had started up. Insulting him. Insulting George. Insulting Ron. Harry.  
  
Fred had never in his life wanted to pound someone so badly as he'd wanted to pound Draco Malfoy. He would have, too, if Angelina, Alicia and Katie hadn't been holding him back.  
  
For some reason this angered him even more. He had been banned from the game and he hadn't even gotten a chance to get some punches on his own in. He felt as if he'd been banned for no reason at all.  
  
Lee was snoring softly in his bed; George had snuck off to be with Alicia, no doubt engaging in a kind of consolation shag to make up for the misery of the day.  
  
But this wasn't the worst of it. No, the worst of it was Angelina. Somehow, he knew he had let her down. Her one year to be captain, to lead a winning team, and he'd blown it.  
  
He turned on his side and closed his eyes. He had never felt so exhausted in all his life. Maybe it would be like Angelina had said earlier. Maybe he'd go to sleep and wake up to learn that this whole day had been a bad dream.  
  
Somehow, even as sleep took him, Fred doubted it.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Fred walked wordlessly toward the Room of Requirement behind George, Lee, Angelina and Alicia.  
  
It was the last D.A. meeting before the holidays. Normally Fred was always overjoyed for the holidays. Between getting gifts and leaving school and not worrying about schoolwork, the holidays were always a fine time to be had. But this year...  
  
He and Angelina had become a bit distant. They maintained a friendly, civil enough façade, but things had become strained. She told him time and again she wasn't angry with him for getting himself banned from playing, but Fred knew she wasn't being entirely truthful. She was under a lot of strain lately; having to find three new team members was not helping her already strained state of mind. When she'd told him who they were, Fred was shocked and dismayed. Ginny, his baby sister, playing Seeker? Fred hadn't even known she could fly a broom. And the two beaters, Kirke and Sloper? Fred HAD seen them fly, and they were miserable.  
  
They entered the Room of Requirement to find it decorated with all manner of banners and mistletoe. Angelina marched over to Harry to tell him about the new team members. She gave Harry a dirty look at the end of it and stalked back to the crowd of seventh years. She glanced at Fred with a pained expression. She was torn, it was obvious, between wanting to give HIM dirty looks, too, and feeling wretched at not being able to play alongside him anymore.  
  
Well, thought Fred, if SHE feels badly about it, think about how I feel.  
  
The meeting began, and people paired up. Fred found himself paired with Angelina, more by default than by choice. Harry cleared his throat and announced that they would be reviewing all they'd done so far before jumping into anything new.  
  
And then that prat Zacharias Smith had to open his stupid mouth again.  
  
"We're not doing anything new?" he said, in that whingey, nasal voice. "If I'd known that, I wouldn't have come..."  
  
"We're all really sorry Harry didn't tell you, then," Fred snapped, feeling his nerves fraying just a bit. Honestly. Like that idiot Smith was getting BETTER Defense Against the Dark Arts instruction from Umbridge than he was in here?  
  
Several people in the room laughed, including Angelina. Fred felt a little better when she smiled at him.  
  
They paired up and Fred found himself partnered with Angelina, more out of default than by conscious choice. They went through the motions of the spells and charms and jinxes. Angelina was better at it than he was; she managed to Stun him twice as often as he did her. But as the hour went on, Fred felt a bit of the tension between them thaw. He was grateful for it. Maybe later they could take a walk somewhere and talk and just...be together. Like they used to be.  
  
But when the hour ended and Fred and Angelina helped put away the dozens of cushions that had been in use during the Stunning Spells, she smiled at him. As his stomach clenched and his lips tingled and his hands fought the urge to reach for her, he knew they could never be like they used to be again.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
It was perhaps the longest night of Fred's life. Since being awakened after midnight by Professor McGonagall with the news, he had spent the rest of the night in a half-dream state, punctuated by a few episodes of abject fear and temper. His nerves were frayed to the breaking point; he knew he must stay awake as he waited for news from his mother, and yet he was so beyond exhaustion that sleep was stealing over him seductively.  
  
It was the Christmas holidays, but Fred was here, in the gloomy kitchen of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, awaiting the arrival of his mother from St. Mungo's Hospital. George, Ginny, Ron, Harry and Sirius Black all sat with him, around the long rectangular table, none of them speaking. The only sounds were the ticking of an old clock; the crackling of the fire, the occasional swish of butterbeer when one of them lifted his or her bottle to take a half-hearted sip.  
  
Dad, Fred thought. Dad's in St. Mungo's. Dad's been attacked. Fighting for his life. And I'm sitting here in this stupid fucking kitchen drinking a butterbeer. His mind rebelled against this forced incarceration. They couldn't go to St. Mungo's, Sirius said, because it would jeopardize the very mission their father had been fulfilling when he'd been attacked. Secrecy was crucial. The Order couldn't be risked, not for anything.  
  
Bugger the Order, Fred thought again. He and George had rebelled against Sirius's pretty speeches about duty and how some things were worth dying for. What the hell did Sirius know about it? He was holed up in this house, he wasn't Out There, risking his neck. Not like Dad.  
  
Fred's eyelids felt like lead and he let them close. Anything to take away the burning. Sleep came and went; his mind was full of angry, brutal images, all of them ending with his father lying on the ground, bleeding.  
  
Harry had seen it. The attack on Arthur Weasley. Somehow, Harry knew what had happened. Fred supposed he ought to feel grateful to Harry, for alerting them all to what had happened. But part of him couldn't help but wonder just what was going on with the kid this year. He'd been acting edgy and just...weird all year. He was losing his temper constantly, doing stupid things, getting detentions for no reason.  
  
Fred's mind would have explored Harry Potter's behavior further, but a noise broke through the haze of Fred's half-sleeping brain. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, not noticing the stiffness in his neck from sleeping in a chair.  
  
Mum, Fred thought, as the pale, red-haired woman entered the kitchen. He sat up sharply.  
  
Mrs. Weasley was more pale than Fred had ever seen her. Deep, bruising shadows were beneath her red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes. Her nose was red and raw, from the cold or from crying or both, Fred couldn't tell. She smiled weakly.  
  
"He's going to be all right," she said, a half-sob in her throat. "He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill's sitting with him now, he's going to take the morning off work."  
  
Even as the lead weight that had settled on Fred's chest lifted, he felt weak with relief and sat back. He saw George and Ginny get up and hug their mother; Ron gave a kind of exhausted, relieved laugh and finished his butterbeer.  
  
Before long they were fixing breakfast. Sirius's black mood had greatly improved, and the tension in the house lifted, at least somewhat. Fred vaguely noticed that Harry still seemed very tense, but Fred himself was so exhausted that he didn't pay much attention. He was suddenly famished, and the two things he meant to do at that moment were, first, to eat his fill and second, to go upstairs to the room he and George had shared over the summer holidays, and collapse into bed.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
In the end, Christmas was about as happy as Fred could have expected. He would have rather preferred spending the time at home, at the Burrow, or at Hogwarts. Number Twelve Grimmauld Place never did completely lose its dark overtones, even with the layers of decorations and gifts and the fat Christmas tree. The portraits of Sirius's awful family members screamed on more than one occasion, that nutter of a house-elf, Kreacher, skulked relentlessly in and out of rooms, muttering to himself, both Sirius and Harry were predictably moody, and all the adults were particularly secretive, but Fred couldn't complain. His dad was alive and well and cured.  
  
Of course, his father had taken his time in hospital to explore his ongoing obsession with All Things Muggle. Mrs. Weasley had nearly blown a gasket upon learning that Mr. Weasley had been experimenting with a Muggle remedy known as stitches, in which a patient literally had their skin sewn up with a needle and thread. Needless to say the barbaric remedy didn't work, and Mr. Weasley had suffered another of Mum's blisteringly loud tirades for his trouble.  
  
Harry, who'd been convinced he'd been possessed by You-Know-Who and had caused the snake attack, was assured at once by Ginny--who HAD been possessed once by You-Know-Who--that Harry couldn't have been. Percy was still being a complete prat, having sent back his Christmas jumper. Fred was starting to take a tally of how many times he'd have to pound his older brother. Once for every time Percy made Mum cry, Fred decided. George, not surprisingly, had his own tally.  
  
"Between the two of us he won't have any teeth left," said George.  
  
"What's he need teeth for?" said Fred. "They only encourage him to talk."  
  
Hermione Granger had shown up, having cut short her skiing vacation with her parents. Ron had laughed out loud every time Hermione tried to talk about how great skiing was, but he seemed rather obviously happier with her around. Fred smirked. Some day his little brother would get a clue and tell the girl he fancied her. If she didn't smack him upside the head or snog him first.  
  
The gift haul wasn't bad this year, either, Fred thought. The usual jumper from Mum, a small book from Hermione Granger that he would never read, a subscription to Joker's Monthly (the industry magazine for joke shop owners) from Lee, a broomstick compass from Harry, a knitted scarf from Ginny, and a pair of dragon-hide Oxford shoes from George. Fred kept these hidden; dragon-hide shoes were very expensive and the twins still weren't ready to share their joke shop venture with Mum.  
  
Fred and George owled Lee a few times, to let him know what had happened to their father and how their holidays had turned out, but also to keep tabs on the business. They were making real money now, and spending more and more time holed up in their dormitory at school creating their inventions. It wouldn't be long before they could really set up the business permanently, but between having to keep things secret from their mother AND from Umbridge, Fred was growing ever more impatient to just be done with school, already.  
  
Perhaps the best thing about Christmas this year, though, were the letters he'd received from Angelina. He'd written her the night after he'd come to Grimmauld Place, to tell her what had happened, and she'd written back at once. Her letter was full of the kind of warm, comforting words Fred had needed to read. A second letter had arrived just before New Year's Eve, in which she told him she was in Paris with Alicia and that she missed him terribly and wished he was there with her. He wished he was, too. Paris was supposed to be a very romantic city.  
  
Her letters were wonderful. They were terrible. He missed her. He couldn't wait to see her again. He knew when he saw he again that it would hurt like hell, because she only wanted to be his friend.  
  
Better my friend than nothing at all, he told himself.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The journey back to Hogwarts was about the most uncomfortable Fred could remember. His initial delight at finally experiencing a ride on the Knight Bus quickly faded when he was thrown out of his chair for the eighth time, thanks to the herky-jerky manner in which the bus was driven. Ern, the bus driver, was terse to the point of silence. The conductor of the bus, on the other hand, was a chatterbox. Thankfully, Stan Shunpike preferred to lavish his attentions on Famous 'Arry Potter.  
  
By the time they reached Hogwarts, Fred was nearly as tired as he'd been when he'd left for the holidays. His mind was in a bit of an uproar, and his stomach wouldn't calm down. He didn't like the idea of coming back to this place, not when he couldn't play Quidditch, not when Umbridge was running everything. Not when Angelina was here and only wanted to be his mate.  
  
Fred was only vaguely aware of dragging himself and his things to the common room and up to his dormitory. Lee was back, as evidenced by the things in his trunk strewn all over the bed, but he was not in the room. Fred guessed he was in the Great Hall at that night's feast, which had started only ten minutes earlier. George came in and dumped his trunk unceremoniously at the foot of his bed.  
  
"Well, I'm going to find Alicia," he said. "I've gone way too long without a snog, and I think I need at least a dozen after that holiday."  
  
"You do that," said Fred, rolling his eyes.  
  
"See you at dinner, yeah?"  
  
"Right," said Fred, not feeling the slightest bit hungry.  
  
He arranged his trunk at the foot of his bed and stared round his room. For the first time, the sight of his warm, cozy four-poster bed brought no comfort. He was powerfully aware of how much he was ready to leave Hogwarts. His mind drifted to his broom, currently locked away in that foul Umbridge woman's office. He didn't even want to think about the start of the new term tomorrow; now that it was a new year, the teachers would all be hammering them with homework in preparation for the N.E.W.Ts.  
  
"Bugger," he muttered. He ran a hand through his hair and headed out of the dormitory, down the spiral steps, and into the common room. He nearly tripped on his own feet when he saw Angelina standing by the fire.  
  
She turned to him and grinned. Fred felt his heart constrict. Was it even possible that she was more beautiful than when he'd last seen her. It hurt to look at her. He wanted to run from the room. But his feet were stuck, and then she was right there in front of him and pulling him into a tight hug.  
  
"Hi," she whispered. "I missed you."  
  
Fred's arms did the only thing they could do; they went round her waist and he pulled her close, breathing in her scent: jasmine and spice.  
  
"Missed you," he murmured.  
  
She pulled back and looked at him. "You look knackered."  
  
"Took the Knight Bus back," said Fred, grinning, falling back on his usual casual demeanor. "It's a miracle I survived at all."  
  
Angelina laughed, which made Fred's heart constrict again. Bloody hell. Being in love was awful, Fred decided, if it made you feel like you were going to drop dead from a damn heart attack every other minute.  
  
Her face became serious again. "Your dad okay?"  
  
"Yeah," said Fred. "Yeah, he's just fine."  
  
"Good," said Angelina. "I'm starving. Let's eat, yeah?"  
  
"Okay," said Fred, but he still did not feel hungry. He forced himself to keep a light tone. "You'll have to tell me all about Paris, of course. Hopefully you got into a lot of trouble."  
  
"Not much," said Angelina conversationally as they moved through the portrait hole and into the corridor. "Getting in trouble isn't much fun without you around, I have to say."  
  
"Why, Angie, love," he said, "I'm flattered." They grinned at one another, and when she took his arm and walked with him toward the Great Hall, he tried very hard not to feel like a stupid, lovesick git.  
  
It didn't work. 


	14. Chapter Fourteen: The End of a Friendshi...

Chapter Fourteen: The End of a Friendship  
  
"Well, that wasn't hideously awful," said George dryly, as he, Fred and Lee made their way out of the stands.  
  
"Yeah," said Lee. "Only mildly horrific, really."  
  
"Ginny IS pretty good, anyway," said George.  
  
"Almost makes up for Ron, doesn't she?" said Lee.  
  
A pause, and Lee and George looked at one another.  
  
"No, she doesn't," they both said.  
  
Fred was only half-listening to them. He'd lost most interest in the match when it became obvious Gryffindor wasn't going to win, but now the only thing on his mind was Angelina, who'd been hit in the face by a bat. Jack Sloper's bat. Fred was torn between wanting to see to Angelina and pound the stuffing out of Sloper. What kind of idiot hits his own teammate instead of the Bludger?  
  
"Stupid fucking crowds," Fred muttered, trying, not all that gently, to push his way through the throngs of people as his feet hit the near frozen earth of the Quidditch pitch.  
  
"Easy, Twin," said George. "I'm sure Madam Pomfrey's already got her all fixed up."  
  
"Nasty hit, that was," said Lee. "How did Sloper mistake her face for a Bludger, I want to know."  
  
"Dammit!" Fred yelled, losing his temper with these stupid people who were milling about as if nothing was wrong. As if Angelina wasn't bleeding all over herself in the hospital wing.  
  
"Relax, bro," said George. "She's going into the tent, see?" He pointed.  
  
Fred looked up, and indeed, the lone figure of Angelina Johnson was ducking inside the Gryffindor Quidditch tent.  
  
"Pomfrey must have healed her up on the spot," said Lee. "Let's get inside, yeah? I'm freezing my arse off."  
  
"Coming, Fred?" George asked. "Oh, wait. Never mind." He shook his head, then looked over and called, "Oi! Alicia!"  
  
Fred felt rather than saw George and Lee jog away; he was too busy pushing his way through the crowd. He couldn't say why but it seemed urgent beyond all measure that he get to the tent. He had to know that Angelina was okay.  
  
At last he reached it, and slipped inside. Angelina was there, facing the large blackboard that was currently covered with drawings and diagrams and notes from the strategy sessions she'd been holding before each practice. She stood back about twelve feet from the blackboard. Her back was rigid and she didn't hear him come in. He started to speak, but stopped. Something in her posture stopped him. He waited.  
  
A choked, angry sob burst from her throat in the next moment.  
  
"DAMMIT!"  
  
Suddenly she picked up a dead Bludger from the bench and hurled it furiously at the blackboard. It bounced and landed a few feet away. She gave another furious sob and hurled herself at the blackboard, smearing the diagrams and notes with her balled up fists. She was bawling.  
  
"Fucking STUPID game!" she cried, and she began to pound the blackboard with her fists. "I hate this fucking game!"  
  
"Angie..." Fred said weakly, and he crossed to her. She didn't seem to hear him; she beat at the blackboard weakly a few more times before sinking to her knees on the frozen ground.  
  
"Angie," he said again, putting a hand on her shoulder.  
  
She started, then looked up.  
  
"Fred..." she said. Her face was a network of tears; her mouth, which had been so savagely hit by Sloper's bat, was no longer swollen or bleeding, but there was a bruise on her cheek.  
  
"Hey," he said softly, lifting her up off the ground.  
  
"Fred," she sobbed again, and he pulled her into his arms.  
  
"Don't, Angie," he whispered. "It's okay. It's...it's just a stupid match..."  
  
This was the wrong thing to say. She cried harder and pushed away from him.  
  
"How can you say that?" she cried. "It's not just a match. Not for you. Not for me!"  
  
"Angie--"  
  
"One year, Fred!" she said, throwing up her arms in despair. "That's all I had. One bloody FUCKING year to be a good captain and everything's gone to shit. I don't have half my original team anymore, and the ones I do have..."  
  
Her voice trailed off as she buried her face in her hands.  
  
"It's not fun anymore," she sobbed. "That...that cow took it away."  
  
"What?" said Fred, confused. He put a tentative hand on her shoulder.  
  
"That Umbridge bitch!" said Angelina savagely. "She's taken it away. All of it! Every last...DROP of good stuff this damn place ever had. She's taken you away..."  
  
Her voice trailed off again and she turned away from him. Fred was speechless. Fred knew she had a temper, that her anger could be impressive when aroused, but this was different. Anger combined with despair. It frightened him. He wasn't sure just what to do. He wanted to hold her, but she didn't seem to want him to touch her. And what did she mean, anyway, by Umbridge taking HIM away?  
  
"Angie..." he said weakly, and again he put a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"I hate playing without you," said Angelina, her head drooping. "I hate it."  
  
Fred felt his stomach flip-flop. Her anger seemed to have petered out, so he gently turned her and pulled her into his arms again. This time she sank against him.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said, for lack of anything better to say. He shouldn't feel elated that she missed playing Quidditch with him, but he did.  
  
"I miss you so much," she said into his shoulder. "It's not...right. Being up there and not having you there. Every bloody time we practice I...I get up there and I turn round to look for you...and it's bloody Sloper or Kirke instead. I...I hate it."  
  
"I miss it, too," said Fred, holding her close. "I miss being up there with you."  
  
"It's no fun without you," she said, pulling herself closer. "No bloody fun at all."  
  
He closed his eyes and rather hoped they could stay like this for a while. Holding her and breathing in the scent of her, jasmine and spice and sweat. But of course they couldn't. They were Just Friends.  
  
She pulled back from him and looked him in the eye. Hers were dark and reddened and shiny with tears; her cheeks were stained with them. He brushed the tears away with his fingers.  
  
"At least I never hit you in the face with my bat," said Fred, grinning.  
  
She laughed, but it turned into sobs and she sank against him again.  
  
"Hey," he whispered, holding her. "It's okay. I'm here."  
  
He held her for a while, and her sobs quieted. It was very quiet in the tent. The sun was setting outside. Long shadows were falling across the Quidditch pitch. The only sounds in the tent were the rustling of the canvas and their breathing.  
  
Angelina pulled back from his embrace just a little, so that her face was mere inches from his.  
  
"You okay, love?" he asked softly. His heart was pounding so hard he felt it humming in his ears.  
  
She nodded. "I will be," she said. "I can't believe Sloper hit me with his bat."  
  
She laughed, and he laughed with her, and he found himself kissing her gently on the forehead. Like a friend would.  
  
She stopped laughing as he pulled his lips from her forehead. Fred heard her breathing, felt his heart beating, saw the tears staining her cheeks. He felt his lips move to her left cheek and kiss her there softly. He felt her close her eyes.  
  
His lips moved again, traveling over to her other cheek. Somewhere in his mind he thought he ought to stop this. The kisses he was giving her could not easily be written off as simple, friendly gestures. Not the way they lingered, not the way his lips floated just above her skin only to rest softly against her cheek, her temple, next to her mouth...  
  
"Fred," he heard her whisper, but then she couldn't say anything else, because his lips were against hers.  
  
He waited for her to pull away, to slap him or to laugh nervously and say "Oops." She didn't. He felt her mouth move against his, heard the intake of her breath through her nose, felt her lips open...  
  
The blood in Fred's body surged south as he felt her tongue brush against his. Sweet Merlin, there was no mistaking this kiss for platonic. He felt her wrap her arms round his neck, felt her hands in his hair, felt his hands moving up and felt dizzy with desire as his mouth moved over hers. It was easily the most incredible kiss he'd ever experienced in his life.  
  
He pressed her closer to him, his hand on the small of her back, moving beneath her Quidditch robes. He heard her whimper and felt her press her pelvis against his aching erection. He ground his pelvis against hers and suddenly their kissing became hot and feverish.  
  
"Angie," he gasped, as he moved his mouth to her neck. She sighed and let her head fall back, exposing the tender golden brown flesh to his lips and tongue. His hands moved over her bottom, pressing her against him once more. His hands roamed some more, over the whole of her back, her shoulders, into her braided hair, and finally finding her lush breasts. She whimpered again as his hands kneaded the soft flesh over her Quidditch robes; he groaned and bit his lip when he felt her hands stroking him over his trousers. His mouth crushed against hers again, and they were kissing as though their lives depended on it. Fred's hands moved from her breasts to her back to crush her against him again, grinding his hardness against her...  
  
"--dunno what the hell happened to them, but Angelina didn't look too chuffed."  
  
Fred almost collapsed when Angelina tore away from him, hurrying to the other side of the tent and making a show of gathering up her broom. Fred blinked and shook his head as Lee and George came into the tent.  
  
"Ah," said Lee. "We were just wondering where the hell you were."  
  
"Misery party upstairs," said George, looking at Fred and then Angelina.  
  
"Right," said Fred, not looking at either one of them, trying desperately to calm down. Angelina wasn't looking at him. She was, in fact, very resolutely not looking at him.  
  
"Right," she said quickly. "I'm going."  
  
She hurried out of the tent without a backwards glance, and Fred, George and Lee were left to stare after her. Fred's head was spinning. What had just happened?  
  
Obviously, he thought furiously, you two snogged quite a bit and then your stupid twin brother and your stupid best mate had to go and interrupt you and now Angelina's all weirded out by it. Wonderful.  
  
"Uh, Fred," said Lee slowly. "You all right?"  
  
George's eyebrows shot up. "What just happened between you two?" he asked.  
  
"Nothing," said Fred at once.  
  
George and Lee exchanged looks.  
  
"Right," said George.  
  
"Nothing happened," Fred lied. "I'm...going inside."  
  
He left the tent without looking back at George and Lee. His hands were shaking, his brain was reeling, and he wondered just how on earth he and Angelina were going to explain themselves out of this one.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
It was well after two o'clock in the morning and Fred couldn't sleep. He hadn't been able to talk to Angelina at all about what had happened in the Quidditch tent. She had barely looked at him all night while everyone was in the common room, and she'd gone to bed before Fred could corner her.  
  
Fred climbed out of bed and went down to the common room. He was cranky and tired and confused. He cursed himself for letting what had happened in the Quidditch tent happen, but he knew he was beyond saving now. He could no longer pretend to be satisfied with simply being Angelina's mate. He loved her, he wanted her, he needed her. He was beyond help. As he started down the spiral staircase he felt his stomach growl. A trip to the kitchens might relieve his hunger. At this point, he didn't care if he got caught out of bounds after hours.  
  
He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't notice somebody else in the common room when he reached the foot of the spiral staircase.  
  
"Fred."  
  
He looked up. It was Angelina, wearing blue pajamas and a white robe. The firelight played on her skin.  
  
"Hi," he said, finding it very difficult to look at her. Mainly because he wanted to snog her again.  
  
"We need to talk," she said quickly.  
  
"Okay," he said, immediately wishing that he hadn't. Ironic, really. All night he'd been wanting to talk to her and now that he could, all he wanted to do was run upstairs. Because he didn't really know if he WANTED to hear what she had to say.  
  
"Sit with me?" she said, indicating the sofa.  
  
"Uh, sure," he said, taking a seat next to her.  
  
"About what happened," she said, "earlier, in the Quidditch tent--"  
  
"Angelina," Fred interrupted, suddenly feeling overcome by the need to tell her...everything. "Before you say anything else I...I have to tell you--"  
  
"We shouldn't have done it," she went on, as though she hadn't heard him.  
  
Fred sat back. "Wh-what?"  
  
"It was a mistake," she said firmly, though her voice shook slightly. "It shouldn't have happened, Fred."  
  
He looked down for a moment, trying to push away the sharp pain in his chest that hearing her words had induced. It didn't go away. It got worse. He supposed he ought to have expected this. A part of him actually did. But expecting it did not make it hurt any less.  
  
"I see," he said slowly.  
  
"Look," said Angelina quickly. "It's not your fault. I was a real mess and I just...I guess I was a bit overwhelmed by everything and...and--"  
  
"No," said Fred suddenly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"No," he repeated, and just as the pain in his chest grew hotter, anger bubbled beneath the hurt. "I don't want to hear it."  
  
"Fred, listen--"  
  
"No, Angie," he said, standing up suddenly, not able to look at her. His eyes fixed on the fire instead. "Dammit. How many times has this sort of thing almost happened, eh? How many times are we going to make excuses?"  
  
"Fred, we're mates," said Angelina gently, not getting up. "We shouldn't be- -"  
  
"Shouldn't be what, snogging one another?" said Fred bitterly. "Maybe it's BECAUSE we're mates that we OUGHT to be snogging one another, ever think of that? Maybe we've been chasing after other people when what's good for us is right here. BETWEEN us."  
  
"Fred, please," said Angelina, standing up and putting a hand on his arm, "I don't want to ruin what we have--"  
  
"Who says we'd ruin it?" said Fred, turning to her, his tone changing from anger to supplication. "Is there some rule that says if two best friends get together their friendship is over?"  
  
"No, but--"  
  
"Then why not?" said Fred. "Why not try and be together?"  
  
"You know why," said Angelina.  
  
"No, dammit, I don't," said Fred, angry again. "What I see are two people who get along famously and have a great time together and have been there for each other through good times and bad. What I see are two people who had a damn fine time snogging in the Quidditch tent."  
  
"Fred, don't do this," said Angelina.  
  
"Don't do what?" said Fred. "Tell you how I feel about you? Tell you that I love you? That I'm in love with you?"  
  
The words flew out of his mouth before he really understood that he was saying them. She gasped, her eyes widened, and her hand flew to her mouth. Fred swallowed and blinked and tried to find his footing. He hadn't meant to tell her like that. He'd had fantasies of taking her out for a romantic picnic and sharing a bottle of wine and laying her down in the warm summer grass and telling her he loved her. Not bellowing it at her in the bloody common room.  
  
But it was out now. There was no taking it back. He squared his shoulders.  
  
"There," he said defiantly. "I've said it. Now...what...what about you?"  
  
"What about me?" she said, still looking shocked.  
  
"How do you feel about me, Angie?" he said, gritting his teeth, trying to contain the sudden swirl of emotions in his brain and pressing on his heart.  
  
"I...I don't know," she whispered. "Fred..."  
  
"You don't know," Fred repeated dully.  
  
"Fred, I care about you," she said quickly. "I just don't...I can't...our friendship means so much to me, I can't risk..." Her voice trailed off.  
  
Fred nodded and looked down. A horrible, painful lump had lodged in his throat. Good god. He couldn't believe what he'd done. Blurted out how he'd felt and destroyed their friendship in one fell swoop. Nice work, Weasley. Had he simply gone along with her idea of brushing aside the incident in the Quidditch tent, perhaps their friendship might have been salvageable.  
  
No, he thought. No. Their friendship could never be the same. He could have gone along with her and he would still be living a lie. He couldn't content himself with being her friend anymore. He couldn't handle acting like he didn't love her when he did.  
  
"Well," he said slowly. "I guess...that's it, then."  
  
"What?" said Angelina, looking alarmed.  
  
All the anger he'd felt moments ago had vanished, replaced by a horrible, heavy resignation.  
  
"I can't do this, anymore, Angie," he said sadly. "I can't...pretend around you. I never meant...I didn't want to feel like this."  
  
"Fred, please don't do this," she begged. "Don't throw away our friendship. I can't...I don't want to be without you..."  
  
"You don't want to be with me, either," Fred said, his voice shaking.  
  
"I...I can't," she whispered, and tears were in her eyes. "I just...can't. I'm sorry."  
  
Fred felt his own eyes burning. He tried to recall a time when he'd ever felt more horrible. The only time he could remember feeling this wretched was right before Christmas, in those awful hours of waiting to hear news about his father.  
  
"I'm sorry, too," he said, brushing a tear from her cheek with his hand. He couldn't bring himself to say anything else. He couldn't look at her anymore. He brushed past her and walked up the spiral staircase to his room without looking back. 


	15. Chapter Fifteen: The Beginning of Someth...

Chapter Fifteen: The Beginning of Something More  
  
"Marietta Edgecombe?" said Fred. "She's the one who ratted us out?"  
  
"Had to be," said Lee. "She's the only one who's got 'snitch' written in acne all over her face."  
  
"Blimey," said George. "I can't believe she snitched on us."  
  
"I can," said Fred darkly. "Stupid cow. Remind me to thank Hermione for that brilliant hex she put on Miss Edgecombe, yeah?"  
  
Fred, Lee and George were sitting in their dormroom half-heartedly attempting their Transifiguration homework.  
  
"I guess this mean's Umbridge is in charge," said George gloomily.  
  
"With Dumbledore gone?" said Fred. "Yeah, I'd say so. Not like the Ministry is going to let McGonagall take over."  
  
"Wonderful," said Lee. "So in addition to being a professor and 'Hogwarts High Inquisitor, that Umbridge bitch is Headmistress as well?"  
  
"Looks that way," said Fred.  
  
There was a glum silence as the three boys once again attempted their homework, but all of them gave up in disgust.  
  
Fred, for his part, was in a foul mood only partly because of Dumbledore's flight and Marietta's betrayal. The main reason for his sullen demeanor was that, in the aftermath of the scene in the Quidditch tent, Angelina had been avoiding him. For the first time in all the years they'd known each other, Fred and Angelina weren't talking.  
  
Their friendship was effectively finished. It wasn't entirely her fault, of course. She couldn't force herself to feel something for him that wasn't there. Fred had done the only thing he knew to keep himself from going mad. He'd cut himself off from her. It hurt too much to be around her and not be WITH her. He could not longer accept simple friendship from her, not when he had tasted the sweet bliss of her mouth against his, not when his every nerve ached to hold her and touch her and wake up next to her every morning. Friendship simply wasn't enough. If he couldn't be with her in the way he most wanted, he couldn't stand to be around her at all.  
  
So Fred couldn't blame Angelina for, in the end, doing what he'd asked. He'd told her he couldn't be around her, and she had obliged him by doing all she could to avoid even being in the same room with him. Fred had hoped, initially, that her absence would ease the pain in his chest. It didn't. He couldn't be around her, but he couldn't stand not being around her either.  
  
"There really isn't much worth staying here for, is there?" Fred said glumly. "No Quidditch, no Dumbledore, no Hogsmeade, no--"  
  
"Angelina," said George, not looking up from his Transfiguration essay.  
  
"George," said Lee warningly.  
  
But Fred looked over at his twin and swallowed. "No Angie," he said.  
  
Another silence. George and Lee looked at Fred sympathetically.  
  
"It's her loss, mate," said Lee fervently.  
  
"Definitely," said George.  
  
Fred shook his head and smiled bitterly. "I keep trying to tell myself that." He paused. "Fuck it. I can't do bloody homework now. I'm too pissed off."  
  
"THAT'S my brother," said George. "Angry is so much better than maudlin, if you ask me."  
  
"Maudlin?" said Fred. "Since when did you have such a big vocabulary?"  
  
"Alicia," said Lee, smirking. "She's trying to expand George's verbal horizons. I think she and Hermione must be related."  
  
"Whatever," said George quickly, his ears reddening. "I'm pissed off, too, Twin."  
  
"Me, three," said Lee.  
  
"That Umbridge twat has ruined this place," said Fred. "Tomorrow she's going to be the one running things. I don't know if I can stand it."  
  
"Who says we have to?" said George. He met Fred's eyes and grinned wickedly, and Fred grinned back. It was his first real smile in days.  
  
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he said.  
  
"If you're thinking that it's high time the Umbridge toad got a little taste of Weasley revenge, then yeah," said George.  
  
"Why make it a little taste?" said Fred. "Why not give her the Full Treatment?"  
  
"Not like we have anything to lose," said George.  
  
"Are you two serious?" said Lee, looking a bit nervous.  
  
"Not usually, but in this case, yeah," said George. "Come on, Lee, Fred's right. What's the good of staying in this place now? For N.E.W.Ts?"  
  
"If you leave before taking them your mum will do her nut," said Lee.  
  
"Yeah, well, it won't be anything we haven't heard before," said Fred. "Look, the business is taking off. We've got loads of Galleons saved up; we're working out that lease for premises. We can start looking for our own flat, too. Live on our own. Make our own rules. What's the use of us staying here? To get some stupid diploma? What for?"  
  
"You two are serious, aren't you?" said Lee. "About doing a runner."  
  
"I wouldn't call it doing a runner," said George. "That implies cowardice."  
  
"I'd call it cutting our losses," said Fred. "The joke shop is our future, Lee, and you know it. Not this academic bollocks."  
  
"Maybe for you," said Lee. "And believe me, mates, I'm with you. But I have to stick round school. If I don't take my N.E.W.Ts my dad'll disown me or something."  
  
"I don't think he's going to go for it, Fred," said George.  
  
"Don't get me wrong," said Lee quickly. "I'm happy to make life difficult for Umbridge. I just want to finish out the school year."  
  
"Fair enough," said Fred. "But I trust we have your assistance in getting a little rumble started."  
  
"That's on," said Lee, grinning.  
  
"Excellent," said George. "Let's make Umbridge's first day as Headmistress a day she'll never forget."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Do you really think it was a good idea to tell Ron and the others about this?" said George.  
  
"Hey, it's for their own protection," said Fred. "And anyway, by the time we get done Umbridge'll be so busy running around trying to put out a million proverbial fires, she won't know who's done what."  
  
"You're assuming the teachers are going to sit by and let you two destroy the school," said Lee.  
  
"Oh, they'll stand by," said George. "Have you met ANYONE here who likes Umbridge apart from Filch and her little band of Slytherin sycophants?"  
  
"True," Lee conceded.  
  
"Better move off, Lee," said Fred. "We're ready to go. You don't want to be round here when these things go off."  
  
"Right," said Lee. "Good luck, mates." He gave them the thumbs up and hurried down the corridor and out of sight.  
  
Fred glanced at George and grinned. "Ready, Twin?"  
  
"I was born ready," said George. They clapped hands, and then reached into their robes and pulled out their wands. Fred pointed it to the cluster of fireworks next to him.  
  
"Incendio," he muttered. A spark shot from the end of his wand, and the long strings on the fireworks ignited and began to burn down. George did the same, with the same result.  
  
"Excellent," said Fred. "Now let's go find us a good place to watch the mayhem."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Umbridge's Day of Disaster went off better than Fred and George could ever have imagined. Not only did none of the other teachers bother to come to Umbridge's assistance, but many other students got in on the action as well. And the general chaos inspired Peeves to new heights of destruction. By the end of the day the entire school was in relative shambles, including Umbridge, who was last seen storming back to her office screeching at the top of her lungs and covered in soot, her hideous Alice band falling out of her frizzy hair and her robes torn.  
  
The other teachers were all surprisingly calm about the events. They didn't seem to care about the numerous fireworks that zoomed and exploded about the corridors and outside on the grounds, nor did they bother to repair the damage to their own classrooms until the end of classes, which they were able to do with a simple wave of their wands.  
  
"That's the last of them," said George wistfully as he watched from their dormitory the last stockpiles of their fireworks explode in the distance. "Bloody great things, those."  
  
"We can make more," said Fred, grinning. "Damn, that was a good day. One for the history books." He patted his stomach, which was full and satisfied. The day's events had put him in a fairly good mood, for a change, and as a result his appetite had returned; he'd eaten his fill at dinner.  
  
"You know you've done good when Hermione compliments your product," said George, grinning.  
  
"At the end of the day, she hates Umbridge as much as the rest of us," said Fred. "Ron really needs to get off his arse and ask her out."  
  
"Good news, chaps," said Lee, as he entered the dormitory. "We've got a dozen orders for the fireworks, and ALL of them have pre-paid!"  
  
He tossed a small, clinking bag toward them, and Fred caught it.  
  
"No way," said Fred, grinning, as he poured the contents of the bag onto his bed. "That's--"  
  
"Almost forty Galleons," said George, grinning wildly.  
  
"Too bad the Portable Swamps aren't quite ready," said Fred. "We could have taken in another forty for just a few of those."  
  
"We'll save those for another time, yeah?" said George. "Don't want to overwhelm poor Umbridge or anything."  
  
"Yeah, we do," said Fred.  
  
"You're right, we do," said George.  
  
"Great day," said Lee. "School's almost fun again. Even Snape was almost.cool."  
  
"Bite your tongue," said Fred.  
  
"What? He didn't have much to say about what happened today, did he?" said Lee. "He stood by like all the other teachers and let Umbridge sweat."  
  
"Yeah, well," said George, "we'll see how long that lasts. Considering how cozy some of Snape's little Slytherins are getting with the Evil Bitch from Hell."  
  
"In the meantime," said Fred, "let's count our money, shall we?"  
  
"Now THAT always keeps me in a good mood," said George.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Fred's good mood didn't last long. The glow of having made Umbridge's first day impossible faded the moment he saw Angelina next day at breakfast, and very quickly he was wallowing in his own misery again. She was still avoiding him, but had taken to giving him shy, painful little smiles from across the table during mealtimes, or whenever they would pass in the corridors. It was agony. The desire to leave Hogwarts for good began to press on Fred almost as badly as the pain of being in love with Angelina.  
  
It was a few weeks later when Fred was sitting in the common room that the perfect opportunity to leave the school came to him and George in the form of their little sister.  
  
"Fred? George?"  
  
The twins looked up from their order forms. Ginny was standing next to the fire, looking at them a bit apprehensively.  
  
"What's up, Gin?" said Fred.  
  
"It's Harry," said Ginny slowly.  
  
"I knew you were still crushing on him," said George absently.  
  
"I'm not," said Ginny, sounding annoyed. "Look, we had a bit of a talk in the library and he told me he really needs to talk to Sirius."  
  
"What does this have to do with us?" said Fred, filling in another order for a Skiving Snackbox.  
  
"I told him you two might be able to help," said Ginny coolly.  
  
"Oh, lovely," said George. "Volunteering our rule breaking services, are you?"  
  
"Come on," said Ginny. "You two are the only ones who could pull it off."  
  
"What are we supposed to pull off?" said Fred.  
  
"Get Umbridge out of her office so Harry can use her fire," said Ginny easily.  
  
"Oh, is that all?" said George, rolling his eyes.  
  
"That's it," said Ginny. "Unless, of course, you think you can't really do it. Unless you're afraid or something--"  
  
"Bite your tongue!" said George.  
  
"Fear is not in our vocabulary, baby sister," said Fred.  
  
"Well, then, it shouldn't be any trouble for you to get Harry into The Toad's office safely so he can use her fireplace to contact Sirius," said Ginny.  
  
Fred stared at his little sister. She had been full of surprises this year. First her talent with flying (which she'd learned by stealing their brooms from the time she was six and flying in secret), and now this. The shy, clumsy little girl who'd been their sister was nowhere to be found. In her place was a rather confident, cool young woman with an easy penchant for mischief. Fred was impressed.  
  
"Look at her," said Fred fondly. "Our little sister. I think we've rubbed off on her, Twin."  
  
"I hope so," said George. "We need another trouble-maker in this place, now Ron's a prefect."  
  
Fred grinned at Ginny. "I think George and I can arrange a little distraction for Madam Umbridge."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Ha! Perfection!" said Fred triumphantly, as he, George and Lee looked over the tiny Portable Swamp laid out on the common room table. "Just a couple of Engorgement Charms and we're good to go."  
  
"I dunno about this, mates," said Lee. "Umbridge is on the warpath. She's got half of Slytherin doing her dirty work for her. You could get caught."  
  
"That's the plan," said George.  
  
"You're PLANNING on getting caught?" said Lee incredulously. He looked from one twin to the other, and then understood. "I get it. You're leaving tomorrow, aren't you?"  
  
"Tomorrow's as good a time as any," said Fred.  
  
"Did you two just decide on this or have you been planning it all along?" said Lee, sounding a bit resentful.  
  
"Just came to us," said George, "when Ginny asked us to help Harry."  
  
"No point in hanging out here any longer, anyway," said Fred, feeling his grumpiness return.  
  
"Just because Angelina's not talking to you--"  
  
"That's not all, Lee, and you know it," Fred snapped. Lee scowled, and Fred's face fell. "Sorry, mate."  
  
"Look, Lee," said George, "it's over for the two of us. We'll go mad if we have to spend another day in here."  
  
"We'd fail the N.E.W.Ts anyway," Fred said.  
  
"And this way, we can make a nice, dramatic exit," said George heartily, clapping Lee on the back.  
  
"Give the school something to remember us by," said Fred.  
  
"Like anyone's going to forget you two in a hurry," said Lee, smiling a begrudging smile.  
  
"I think Lee's going to miss us, bro," said George.  
  
"Aw, that's so sweet," said Fred.  
  
"Shut it," said Lee, swatting both of them on the back of the head.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Fred rolled up his order forms and shoved them into the pocket of his robes, which were draped over his desk chair. He had packed most of his things into his trunk, even though he knew he wouldn't be able to take his trunk with him. He also knew that Umbridge would almost certainly try to get inside his trunk once he was gone (and George's as well); as such, he and George had given their remaining joke things to Ginny for safe-keeping. In the meantime, Fred would use every Locking Charm in his arsenal to lock up his trunk. They wouldn't last forever--Umbridge would get into his trunk eventually--but in the meantime he'd make it difficult for her.  
  
Fred looked around the dorm room. It was odd, really, that this would be his last night to sleep in it. He'd miss his four-poster bed; he'd miss goofing off with Lee and George into all hours of the night. He'd miss the common room, where he and George and Lee had done some of their best inventing and scheming. He'd even miss lessons, just a little (well, not Potions or Defense Against the Dark Arts), if only because the teachers had been fond of him.  
  
He'd miss Angelina.  
  
Fred swallowed a lump in his throat. It was better this way, he told himself. Away from here I can REALLY avoid seeing her. Putting some physical distance between her and me might make this damn pain in my chest go away.  
  
Without Angelina to distract him, he could focus fully on getting the joke shop ready. The premises were all set; all that was left to be done was to move in and set the place up. He and George would spend the next several months rebuilding their stocks of inventions and putting together an inventory. Finally, they could get out of the mail-order business and do real retail.  
  
He and George had saved up enough money to look for a flat, as well; they'd take a room in the Leaky Cauldron while they looked for a new place to live. Going home to the Burrow was out of the question; Mum would go ballistic if they showed up on her doorstep. And Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was not an option as far as Fred was concerned. Too depressing, too secretive.  
  
Yes, Fred thought, everything will be better once I'm out of here. And his and George's parting gift to Umbridge would be the proverbial icing on the cake.  
  
Fred's reverie was sharply interrupted by a knock at the door.  
  
"Come in," he said, turning to his desk to put his quill into his robe pocket.  
  
"Hi."  
  
Fred whirled around at the sound of her voice. In the dim light of the dormitory room she was study of light and shadows. Her long, tiny braids were pulled back with a ribbon. She was wearing white pajamas and a robe that set off her creamy brown skin.  
  
"Angie," he said, his voice feeling strangled.  
  
He hadn't been this close to her in weeks. Now she was ten feet away from him, and they were alone in his room. The ache in his chest was almost unbearable. What could she possibly want? Didn't she see how she was torturing him?  
  
"You're leaving," she said quietly, her face blank.  
  
"Yeah," said Fred. "Who told you?"  
  
"Alicia," she said.  
  
"Of course," he said.  
  
"George is with her," said Angelina. "Somewhere."  
  
"Right," said Fred. Having a farewell shag, no doubt. He looked at the floor.  
  
"What do you want, Angie?" Fred asked wearily, not caring if he sounded rude or not.  
  
"I just--" she began, then stopped. "I wish you wouldn't go."  
  
Fred shook his head. "Do you? Why?"  
  
"You know why," she said, and her voice began to tremble.  
  
"I don't think I do," said Fred, looking up at her, feeling the anger inside him bubble. "Why don't you enlighten me."  
  
"Fred, please," she said in a pleading voice, and her eyes sparkled with tears; her lush lower lip began to quiver.  
  
"Please, what?" said Fred harshly. "Have you come to beg me to stick around, is that it?"  
  
"I will if I have to," she said, lifting her chin, but her voice was shaking even more now.  
  
"Save it," said Fred. "I've already said to you everything I meant to say, and I think I've heard enough from you." He turned away from her, furious at himself for having fallen in love with her, furious with her for playing with his emotions like this.  
  
"Fred, please don't go," she whispered.  
  
"Why not?" he said angrily, his voice rising. "Don't you get it, Angie? I'm not meant to be here anymore. There's nothing keeping me here, d'you understand? Nothing."  
  
"But--"  
  
"No!" said Fred, facing her again, crossing to her so that they stood only two feet apart. "I'm not doing this anymore, Angie. I love you and you don't love me and I'm not going to stick around here and torture myself, get it? I can't...I can't even look at you anymore, because every time I do it fucking hurts."  
  
"Fred, please--"  
  
"I'm sorry I went and ruined our friendship, okay?" said Fred, as though she hadn't spoken. "I'm sorry I can't be around you anymore. I tried, I really did. But I can't do it. Maybe a year from now I'll be able to look at you without feeling like I'm dying inside but right now I can't."  
  
"Dammit, Fred, will you listen to me?" she cried angrily. There were tears on her face now.  
  
Good, Fred thought. Let her bloody cry. If she's hurting even half as much as me, so much the better.  
  
"What?" he said. "What could you possibly say to me that you haven't already said?"  
  
There was long silence as they stared at one another. Fred's heart was pounding; the ache in his chest was so severe he wondered whether his heart would burst.  
  
"I don't want to be your friend anymore," she said.  
  
"Gee, thanks," said Fred. "I'm glad we're in agreement on one thing. Now if you'll excuse me." He started to turn away.  
  
But she placed her hands on his face and pulled him to her, sealing his lips with her own.  
  
Fred felt his throat constrict as their lips touched, and for a moment he leaned into the kiss, forgetting everything but the sensation of her mouth.  
  
But then he remembered himself. Remembered that she had hurt him and that he was angry with her.  
  
And here she was, playing with him, when he'd already spilled his guts out to her, confessed everything, laid bare his very soul. He felt anger rise up in him like sour bile.  
  
He pulled away from her roughly but kept his hands on her shoulders, gripping them tightly.  
  
"Damn you," he said angrily, his voice pushing past the lump in his throat. "Don't you do this."  
  
"Fred, please," she whispered, and she put her hands on his face again, caressing his rough, scratchy cheeks. "I want."  
  
Her voice trailed off and she began to kiss his face, his jaw, with her petal-soft lips. Fred felt a rush of blood to his groin, a constricting pain in his chest. Lust and love and pain were squeezing him and making him feel almost sick. He groaned when he felt her lips on his neck.  
  
"Don't you do this," he said again, trying to summon enough anger to overcome the sudden, powerful arousal he was feeling. He wanted to push her away, but instead his arms went round her waist.  
  
"Don't do this unless you mean it," he added, but it was pointless. Her mouth was on his ear, her tongue tracing the shape of it, her breath hot and sweet. He was drowning already.  
  
"I do mean it," she whispered, dragging her lips back across his roughened cheek and bringing them to rest just inches from his.  
  
His hands moved to grip either side of her face and he stared into her eyes. They were still shiny with unshed tears, and she was trembling like a leaf.  
  
"Say it, then," he said fiercely. "Say it."  
  
A single tear slipped down her cheek.  
  
"I love you," she whispered. Her hands were on his face again. "I love you."  
  
In his imagination, Fred had always pictured himself doing cartwheels or jumping up and down like a git or otherwise displaying some very jubilant display of delight and laughter upon hearing her say the words. But now he was so tired, so exposed, so completely caught up in love and lust and anger and relief and a million other emotions that he found his eyes burning. He was weak with wanting her.  
  
"Bloody hell," he rasped, before pulling her roughly against him and kissing her hungrily.  
  
He heard a gasp in her throat and felt her arms wrap round his neck as his mouth claimed hers. Their mouths opened and Fred groaned when he felt her tongue against his. Her hands tangled in his hair as the kiss deepened. It was a million times better than it had been in the Quidditch tent. Fred forgot about everything but her mouth and how it felt and tasted. He forgot about breathing, and it was only when he felt her go half-limp in his arms and heard her whimper, and felt a powerful dizziness settle over him, that he pulled his lips away.  
  
"Merlin," he gasped. He took a deep breath and fought for some measure of control.  
  
"Fred," Angelina whispered weakly. She was leaning against him and her eyes were glazed and her lips red. "Make love to me. Please."  
  
Fred felt a throbbing in his trousers and he blinked. "Now?"  
  
"Now." 


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Passion Runneth Over

A/N: Adult content. Lots of it.  
  
Chapter Sixteen: Passion Runneth Over  
  
Fred took a deep breath, but he was still dizzy.  
  
"Are you sure?" he asked, taking her hands in his. Surely he had heard her wrong...  
  
"I'm sure," she whispered, moving in close to him and kissing him again. He felt her tongue in his mouth, brushing against his, and he wrapped his arms round her, pressing her close and devouring her mouth as though she were oxygen.  
  
"Lock the door," she whispered against his mouth, and he fumbled for his robes, which were still draped on his chair, found his wand, pulled it out, aimed it at the door, muttered the incantation, and sealed it shut. George and Lee and anybody else would have to make other sleeping arrangements, as far as Fred was concerned.  
  
He steered Angelina to the bed, his mouth still on hers, his fingers working the belt of her robe. He slid the robe from her shoulders, then his hands moved to the ribbon tying her braids back, and he pulled it free, letting the braids cascade over her shoulders. She kicked off her slippers and fell onto the bed, pulling him with her, their mouths pressed hotly together.  
  
She rolled over onto him, straddling him and kissing him and rubbing against him.  
  
"God," he gasped, gripping her hips and arching his hips up against her, pressing his erection against her.  
  
Her hands yanked his shirt from the waistband of his trousers, shoved it up along with his jumper and exposed his pale, smooth chest.  
  
"Jesus, Angie," he groaned, as he felt her mouth and tongue assault his skin, tracing fire over his chest, his nipples, down to his navel. Her hands were on him, stroking him, driving him mad.  
  
"Take them off," he begged. "God..."  
  
She did. He felt her unbuckle his belt, slide it from the loops, throw it aside, felt her open the button, then pull down the zipper of his trousers, then slide them over his hips. He gasped with relief as the pressure on him vanished, then he felt her sliding his boxers down, down.  
  
Then her mouth was on him, covering him with warm wetness, and he was moaning and arching his hips and tangling a hand in the ropes of hair that were her thousands of braids.  
  
"Angie," he gasped. "God, yes..."  
  
Her mouth worked him faster; he felt the pressure building, felt the sweet agony increase with every stroke of her lips and tongue.  
  
"Wait," he gasped. He didn't want to come yet. Not yet. "Kiss me," he begged.  
  
She lifted herself up onto him and kissed him slowly, decadently. He rolled her onto her back, then pulled himself up long enough to pull off his jumper, his tie, yank open his shirt (buttons went everywhere). He sank down onto her and began to open the buttons of her pajama top, his mouth traveling over her face and her lips.  
  
He got her top open and his hands found her flesh, hot and supple. His hands captured her breasts, and his mouth moved hotly over her skin. He buried his face in the lush fullness of her breasts, his mouth moving over them, his tongue teasing her nipples. She was gasping and whimpering and her hands were in his hair, on his back. His hand moved between her legs and caressed her over her pajama bottoms; then his fingers moved beneath the pajama pants, into the damp curls covering her sex, and he was stroking the swollen folds of flesh, causing her to gasp harder and whimper louder and arch her hips higher. He slid two fingers in and out of her as his thumb worked the bundle of nerves.  
  
"Fred," she gasped. "Please..."  
  
He moved his mouth lower, to the smooth brown skin of her stomach. He gripped the elastic waist of her pajama bottoms and slid them down over her smooth, tawny legs, then tossed them aside.  
  
"Wait..." she whispered.  
  
"Shh," he murmured, as he settled himself between her legs. He ran his tongue lightly over the satin skin of her inner thighs.  
  
"Oh," she gasped, and her legs opened of their own accord. Fred moved his mouth between her thighs and breathed in the heady, earthy scent of her sex before he dipped his tongue into her, brushing the small cluster of nerves.  
  
She gasped again and Fred began to move his tongue against her.  
  
Merlin, but he loved doing this. Feeling her softness against his tongue, tasting that incredible female taste. Angelina's taste. He slid two fingers in and out of her slowly, rhythmically as his mouth worked her.  
  
He groaned in his throat and felt her arch up against him, moaning and gasping and saying his name over and over again in sweet little whispers. He moved his tongue faster, his fingers slid in and out of her harder, and when she came at last his name burst from her lips and she convulsed against him.  
  
He kissed her inner thighs and pulled himself up over her. He kissed her slowly, letting her taste the remnants of herself on his tongue. She moaned again.  
  
"I need you," she whispered.  
  
"You'll get me," he said raggedly, smiling as he shifted and positioned himself between her thighs. He started to move toward her but stopped.  
  
"I forgot," he said.  
  
"What?" she gasped.  
  
"Contraceptive Charm," he said. "I'll get my wand--"  
  
"I did it," said Angelina. "I did it already...please..." She kissed his mouth again. He thought briefly about asking her just what she meant about having already done a Contraceptive Charm, but he felt the tip of him press against her sex.  
  
All thought went out the window as he slowly entered her.  
  
She gasped and cried out.  
  
"Yes," he groaned. "God, Angie..." He thrust into her again.  
  
"Oh," she moaned. "Fred, god..."  
  
He put his hands on her hips and began to move in and out of her slowly, taking his time, trying like hell to savor every second, every sensation of being inside her. He forced himself to listen to every sound she made, to feel every movement. After those first initial cries, there was silence, but for their gasps and soft moans as he thrust into her, but for the creaking of the bed from the rhythm their bodies created.  
  
Silence, Fred thought blissfully, as he began to move faster inside her, feeling the sweet, aching pressure build. Nothing to distract him for pure sensation. He opened his eyes and looked into hers; they were filled with tears and lust and love. This, then, was what it felt like to make love to someone. To make love to Angelina. Nothing in his life had ever been so exquisite.  
  
He kissed her mouth and took her hands in his, holding them over her head; her hips bucked against him as they moved together. Fred lost himself in sensation, in feeling. He never wanted it to end, even as he felt the wave building. He shifted and released her hands and moved one hand between them to stroke the bundle of nerves between her folds of flesh. She gasped and closed her eyes and threw back her head as she came, making only the softest of moans against his lips.  
  
He felt the muscles of her sex contract tightly round him and he knew he was lost. He thrust into her once more before he spilled into her, convulsing against her as her name escaped his lips in a whisper.  
  
For a long time they didn't move. Fred couldn't move. He felt his weight sinking on to her, and wondered if he should move, if he should roll off her, but she was clinging to him, and he was so weak he was barely able to lift his head.  
  
He did, anyway, and he looked down at Angelina. Her face was tear streaked, but she was smiling. He felt himself slip out of her and he settled himself more comfortably on her, propping himself up on his elbows.  
  
"Wow," she whispered.  
  
Fred struggled to control his ragged breathing.  
  
"Good?" he whispered, smiling. He brushed her tears away with his thumbs.  
  
"Very good," she said, running a hand through his hair. "I love you."  
  
Fred closed his eyes, then opened them. "I love you," he said, brushing his lips across hers.  
  
He rolled off her and onto his back on the bed, gathering her into his arms. They pulled the covers over them against the chill of the room. Fred cradled her in his arms and was absently stroking her hair when he remembered something.  
  
"Angie," he said softly.  
  
"Mmm?" she murmured, her head resting on his chest.  
  
"You...you said you did a Contraceptive Charm, right?" said Fred.  
  
"Of course," said Angelina.  
  
"When?" he asked, because she had definitely NOT done one just before they'd made love. Hadn't she said...  
  
"Angie," Fred said slowly. "You...you said you did the charm...already."  
  
"I did," said Angelina. "Uh, before I showed up here."  
  
"Before?" said Fred, and he understood, and he began to laugh. She lifted her head from his chest and looked at him sheepishly.  
  
"So you did the charm before you even came up here," said Fred, "somehow just KNOWING you'd get me into bed?"  
  
Her sheepish grin turned mischievous, and her hand traveled beneath the sheets. He groaned and laughed when he felt her fingers caressing him.  
  
"I'd say that's the...thrust of it," said Angelina, tracing her tongue along his collarbone.  
  
"You scheming little tart," Fred whispered, and he lifted her chin to kiss her slowly, his erection throbbing against the loving attentions of her hand.  
  
"I can't help it if you're easy," she murmured, kissing him back.  
  
"Guilty," he said, his voice going fluttery as her stroking intensified. "But...you do realize...I'll have to...mmm...punish you a bit?" His voice faded to a moan.  
  
"I look forward to it," she whispered, climbing on top of him and straddling him.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The morning sun made a thin slit of light through the velvet curtains. It hit Fred squarely in the face, and he turned over, his hand idly pulling the curtain shut.  
  
He collided with something in his bed and opened his eyes. He blinked and tried to remember where he was. His eyes came into focus and he looked at what he'd collided with, and a smile broke out on his face.  
  
Angelina was next to him, lying on her side with her back facing him. She was sleeping soundly, and quite obviously naked, by the way the covers were only half covering her. Her smooth back and luscious backside peeked out from beneath the sheets, and Fred remembered every moment of the night before.  
  
He was smiling like a fool even as he draped his arm over her and pressed himself against her warm body, spooning her. Last night had easily been the best night of his life. It was as if he'd been waiting his whole life to be with the girl lying next to him.  
  
He nuzzled her neck with his lips and breathed in the mingled scents on her: jasmine, spice, sex, sweat. She gave a soft moan and stirred, and he felt her round, ripe bottom brush against him. Good lord, he was already at attention.  
  
Let the poor girl sleep, he thought, grinning. They'd been at it for quite a while last night. He was quite sure he'd be sore this morning from all the exercise, but no, instead he was hard and horny and quite ready to shag her all day.  
  
She blinked and opened her eyes, then turned to him, looking up at him sleepily.  
  
He kissed the tip of her nose.  
  
"Hey," he murmured.  
  
"Hi," she said, smiling.  
  
"Sleep well?" he asked.  
  
"Like the dead," she said, giggling. "I don't think I'll ever walk normally again."  
  
"I know," said Fred, shaking his head sympathetically. "It's because I'm just so huge."  
  
"Yeah, that must be it," she said, rolling her eyes. "Are you telling me you're in any condition to even stand up?"  
  
"Oh, I'm standing up," he said, leaning on his elbow and brushing a braid out of her eyes. "Well, sort of."  
  
"Ha ha," she said. "Horny bastard."  
  
"Absolutely," he said, arching his eyebrows at her and kissing her lips. She kissed him softly for a moment, and when their lips parted they looked at each other for a long moment.  
  
She turned onto her side again, and he spooned her once more. Her mood had changed; he could sense it. Something was weighing on her. He positioned himself carefully so that his erect member wasn't touching her skin and waited for her to speak.  
  
"You're still leaving, aren't you," she said softly. It wasn't a question.  
  
Fred closed his eyes. He'd forgotten all about that. He'd forgotten everything except being with her. He didn't want to think about it, but he owed her an answer.  
  
"Yeah," he said.  
  
She said nothing, but nodded. There was a silence that was too quiet for her to simply be thinking. He lifted himself up on his elbow and looked down at her face. She was staring at the velvet curtains opposite, and a tear fell from her right eye.  
  
"Hey," he whispered, hugging her close and brushing the tear away. "Don't. Baby, please don't."  
  
She sniffed. "I can't help it," she whispered. "I don't want you to go."  
  
"I know," he said sadly, clinging to her. He didn't really want to leave, either, but the only way he'd stay is if he could stay in his room with her for the rest of term, making love with her and talking and not worrying about stupid school work or an evil Headmistress or a homicidal Dark Wizard who wanted to rule the world. But he knew that wasn't possible. He knew, even with her in his arms, that he just didn't belong here anymore.  
  
"Angie," he said slowly.  
  
"I know," she whispered. "I know you're not happy here anymore. I know...you don't belong here anymore. I do."  
  
"Then you know why I have to leave," he said.  
  
"I know why," she said. "I still hate it."  
  
He said nothing. There was nothing he could say. She seemed to want to get everything off her chest, and he kept silent, let her take her time.  
  
"I want you to be happy," she went on. "If you're not happy here...then..."  
  
"It's only a few months, Angie," he said quickly. "A few months left of school and you'll be done and we'll be together again."  
  
"I know," she whispered, closing her eyes.  
  
"I'll write you every day," he said fervently.  
  
"How?" she said. "Umbridge'll never let your letters through."  
  
He'd forgotten about that, too. Umbridge and her Slytherin suck-ups, monitoring every scrap of parchment that went in or out of the school. Angelina was right; she'd never see so much as a single letter written from Fred.  
  
"I'll think of something," he said firmly. "I'm Fred Weasley, remember? There's always a way round rules."  
  
"I want you to be happy," she repeated.  
  
"I will be," he said. "We will be. You and me, together."  
  
She turned to him with sad, hopeful eyes. "Promise?"  
  
"I promise," he said, and he kissed her lips again, softly and sweetly.  
  
He pulled away and she smiled tearfully at him, then turned over once more, onto her side with her back to him, taking his hand in hers and holding it tightly in hers. They spooned once more.  
  
"I'll miss you, you prat," she said, chuckling.  
  
"I'll miss you, too," said Fred.  
  
"I'll miss these hands," she said, a smile in her voice, and she kissed his fingertips lightly.  
  
"My hands'll miss you, believe me," said Fred, kissing her neck.  
  
She giggled. "Let's give them something to remember me by, then," she said huskily, and she pressed his hand firmly against her bare breast.  
  
"Ooh," he said, grinning, and he traced her earlobe with his tongue, then nibbled the tender skin. "Very nice," he added, as his fingers teased her breast.  
  
She sighed and pressed back against him, rubbing her bottom against his erection.  
  
"My, my," she said, her voice throaty and sexy. "You're awake."  
  
"I told you," said Fred, his mouth moving over her collarbone, her jaw, his hand sliding from her breast, over her belly, her hip, and over her bottom. "I'm perfectly capable of standing up."  
  
Her legs were curled up in the fetal position. He caressed her bottom, then reached round and under and found her sex, already wet. He started to tease her there with his fingers. He moved closer to her; both of them still lying on their sides, her back to him.  
  
"Fred..." she gasped, her hips moving against his hand, "we...have lessons...this morning..."  
  
"Not for hours," he murmured, and he pressed his chest against her back and pulled moved his hand back to her hip, moved his aching erection closer to her sex. "Plenty of time."  
  
He held her hip with his hand and slid into her, slowly, decadently.  
  
"Merlin," he groaned. It was so good. So very, very good.  
  
"But..." she gasped, "it's well...past dawn...we'll be late..."  
  
He thrust into her harder. "We'd have...a very good reason..." Another thrust, and another. He increased his rhythm.  
  
"Of course," Angelina said, a hitch in her voice, "we could always...just skive...off lessons."  
  
Fred thrust into her again. "My...thoughts...exactly."  
  
________________________________________________________________________  
  
A/N: Well, not TOTAL smut anyway. Heh heh heh. But it's not over yet. 


	17. Chapter Seventeen: The Escape

A/N: Once again I am using dialogue from OotP, which belongs (as does the whole of the Harry Potter universe) to J.K. Rowling, etc. etc.  
  
Chapter Seventeen: The Escape  
  
"Fred, we HAVE to get out of bed," said Angelina, as Fred pulled her into his arms.  
  
It was getting well into breakfast time by now, but they'd just made love and Fred was in no mood to get out of bed yet. Or ever. Waking up next to Angelina had been almost as fantastic as making love with her. He had never had the opportunity to wake up next to a girl in the past, and he quite loved it. He'd never had sex in the morning, either, and he decided it was quite the most perfect way to start off the day.  
  
"Just a few more minutes," said Fred. "I thought girls liked to cuddle afterwards."  
  
"I do like to cuddle," said Angelina.  
  
"Me, too," said Fred, hugging her close to him. "This is nice. Let's just stay in bed all day, yeah?"  
  
"Fred," said Angelina, sitting up. The sheet slipped off her and Fred was given a very delicious view of her.  
  
"Now THAT is a lovely sight," said Fred, grinning.  
  
Just then there were loud bangs on the door to the dorm room.  
  
"Shit," said Angelina, yanking the covers over her. "Fred, hand me my pajamas!"  
  
"Let us in, you randy bastards!" shouted Lee.  
  
"Lee, you prat, use your wand," said George.  
  
"Fuck," Fred muttered, and he tossed the white pajama top and bottoms to Angelina, who quickly pulled them on. She had begun to giggle.  
  
"Alohomora!" said Lee, and the door clicked open; Fred managed to get his boxers up just in time.  
  
George and Lee walked in, hands over their eyes.  
  
"Don't mind us," said Lee, walking slowly over to what he thought was his bed. Instead he was headed straight for the window next to Fred's bed. He had his other hand out in front of him. "We're just coming in to grab our school things."  
  
Fred rolled his eyes and pulled on a pair of jeans.  
  
"Don't worry if you're naked," said George. "We can't see anything."  
  
"George, you dirty great sod," said Fred, rolling his eyes. "We're decent."  
  
"Is Angelina naked?" said Lee hopefully.  
  
"Fully clothed," said Angelina, as she tied the belt of her robe.  
  
"Damn," George and Lee muttered together, and they lowered their hands and opened their eyes.  
  
"George, you dirty great sod," said Fred.  
  
"Well, good morning, Twin," said George, grinning. "Angelina. You two look completely shagged out. Don't you think so, Lee?"  
  
"Definitely shagged out," Lee agreed.  
  
"Shut up," said Angelina, rolling her eyes. "Fred, I'll see you at breakfast."  
  
She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then kissed him full on the lips. Fred kissed her back. Then she straightened up very tall, squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and walked with supreme grace and dignity from the room.  
  
Fred, George and Lee all watched her go.  
  
"Damn," said Lee. "Fred, you lucky bastard."  
  
"I know," said Fred, grinning.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Breakfast was very rushed; Fred and Angelina only had about ten minutes to wolf down their meal before reporting to their first lesson, Potions. They had both agreed--despite Angelina's suggestion in the midst of their shagging--that skiving off lessons on this particular day wasn't such a good idea. Best to go about the day as if it were just any other normal day.  
  
Normally Fred hated starting out his day with Potions, but the high he was feeling from having made love with Angelina throughout most of the night and the anticipation of what he and George were going to do at five o'clock that evening overrode everything else in Fred's mind. Snape was his usual horrible self and he took ten points each from Fred and George when their Wolfsbane Draught turned a gloppy, sickly puce color (it was supposed to be green). Fred couldn't help chuckling over this and Snape, who noticed, awarded Fred with a detention.  
  
"To be served this evening, Weasley," Snape hissed. "I'm sure you'll enjoy cataloguing my stocks of herbs and roots. Six o'clock sharp."  
  
"I'm looking forward to it," said Fred, winking at George.  
  
The rest of the day passed without incident; for once Fred and George stayed out of trouble in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Umbridge was being particularly superior this afternoon; she spent the first fifteen minutes of class yammering about how "things are going to change at this school" and how the Ministry had given her "full and completely authority" to run the school "in a manner that she saw fit," and that "ANY instances of rule- breaking on her watch would be severely punished." Then she ordered the students to turn to page 342 of their Defensive Magical Theory books and said sweetly, "There will be no need to talk."  
  
As the day went on, the glow Fred had felt from his night with Angelina faded and was replaced by the ache of knowing he was leaving school.  
  
It's only a few months, he told himself.  
  
A few months where I can't even write to her, he thought, and tell her what's going on, find out how she's doing, tell her that I'm mad about her and I think about here bloody minute of the day. He began to regret using up the entire supply of Weasley's Wildfire Whiz-bangs before having the chance to set one off that spelled "I love you Angie" in the air.  
  
At twenty-five minutes to five, Angelina came into his room. They held each other silently for several minutes. She didn't cry. He didn't cry, but he felt like it.  
  
"I love you," she whispered at last, when she pulled out of his embrace.  
  
"I love you, too," he said, and he kissed her fiercely, and she gave over to it, and they kissed frantically for a few long minutes before Fred broke the kiss, knowing that if he let it go on any longer he'd scuttle his plan altogether and yank of Angelina's clothes and make love to her right then and there. But he couldn't. This was about more than him. He was, after all, supposed to be helping Harry sneak into Umbridge's office.  
  
Angelina left his room after kissing him on the forehead, and he was alone for a minute or two, fighting back the lump in his throat.  
  
At quarter to five he met George in the common room.  
  
"Ready, Twin?" said George.  
  
Fred checked his pocket for his wand--it was the only thing he really needed, anyway, at this point--and said, "Ready."  
  
"Off we go," said George, clutching the small box that contained the Portable Swamp inside.  
  
They had chosen Gregory the Smarmy's corridor; students avoided it when they could, because the huge painting of Gregory the Smarmy was given to making exceptionally lewd comments to anyone who passed by, male or female. Unfortunately one had to pass through the corridor in order to go to the Great Hall and to the entrance, unless he or she felt like tramping out of doors, past the greenhouses, and back inside. The corridor was empty now but in a short time would be filled with students on their way to dinner. Or so they thought.  
  
When Fred and George entered, Gregory, who was sitting lazily in a garden chaise, leapt up and gave a long, low whistle.  
  
"Good evening, boys," he said, in a voice dripping with lust. "Twins! Red- haired twins, how delicious."  
  
"Wouldn't you like to know, Gregory," said George, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Mmm, such LOVELY tight little bums," said Gregory, his eyes raking over Fred and George's backsides. "How I'd just LOVE to spank those cute little cheeks. Would you like that, nancy boys? Come on over here and bend over and show me--"  
  
"Bloody hell," said Fred, and he pulled out his wand and aimed it at Gregory's portrait. "Silencio!" he said, and Gregory went silent.  
  
"He's still looking at us," said George. "Dirty git." Indeed, Gregory was leering at both of them.  
  
"Yeah, well, let him look," said Fred. "As long as he doesn't speak."  
  
George removed the Portable Swamp from the box and set it down gently on the floor.  
  
"How big do we want this thing?" said George, studying it carefully.  
  
"Fill up the whole corridor," said Fred. "Make it impossible to get past, I think."  
  
"Fair enough," said George. "A nice high slime quotient, yeah?"  
  
"Naturally," said Fred. "And let's make it deep enough so that people have to swim across."  
  
"Ooh, good one," said George, grinning.  
  
"Ready?" said Fred, aiming his wand at the swamp. George pulled his wand from his robes and aimed it at the swamp as well.  
  
"Let's do it," said George. Together they shouted "Engorgio!"  
  
They stepped back as the swamp grew, then hit it with several more Engorgement Charms. The swamp oozed and the floor sank and became a thick, muddy little stream. They hit it with a few more Engorgement Charms, backing away all the while as vegetation began to slink up the walls and twirl over the balustrade; thick weeds and ferns soon covered much of Gregory the Smarmy's portrait.  
  
"One more, I think," said Fred, and he shouted "Engorgio!"  
  
Just as the charm struck home, several Hufflepuffs and a few Slytherins rounded the corner, only to be hit with mud, stinksap and other varieties of slime. A Slytherin boy shrieked as he fell right into the slimy pool. His Slytherin mate reached for him and pulled him out of the swamp; the boy came up with a loud, sucking noise.  
  
Fred and George laughed uproariously.  
  
"That ought to do Harry for at least a little bit," said George. "Hope he's checking his watch."  
  
"Let's hang out a bit and wait, yeah?" said Fred.  
  
They did. More students came round the corner and gave yells and angry shouts as they collided with the swamp, which was oozing and bubbling and throwing out the occasional splatters of mud.  
  
"Well, well, two Weasels for the price of one," said a drawling, lazy voice. Fred and George turned to see Draco Malfoy and his cronies Crabbe and Goyle rounding the opposite corner toward them.  
  
"Malfoy," said George bracingly. "Nice to see you, too."  
  
"You're in it now, Weasleys," said Draco, smiling smugly. "When Umbridge sees this you're out of here. Won't be as satisfying to have you two kicked out as it would your stupid brother, but I'm not going to be too fussy."  
  
"Well, we're REALLY scared," said Fred. "Aren't we George?"  
  
"I'm wetting myself, Fred," said George. "These three. So SCARY."  
  
"Crabbe, Goyle," said Malfoy. "Get them."  
  
Fred and George rolled their eyes and raised their wands and at the same time, in a very lazy voice, said "Impedimenta!" Crabbe and Goyle both shot backwards off their feet and collided with Malfoy, and they all collapsed in a heap.  
  
"Pathetic," said George.  
  
But in that instant a spell came bursting toward them from their left and narrowly missed them.  
  
"Dammit!" said a female voice. Fred and George looked up to see a livid Pansy Parkinson hurrying toward them, followed by an equally put out Blaise Zabini.  
  
"I think that's our cue," said George.  
  
"Let's give them a bit of a chase, shall we?" said Fred. "Make them think they're accomplishing something?"  
  
"Right," said George, and he fired a Stunning Spell in the general direction of Blaise and Pansy before he and Fred turned and dashed out of the corridor in the direction of the Great Hall.  
  
"Where to?" said George.  
  
"Front entrance," yelled Fred. "We'll give everyone a nice show there."  
  
They dashed down a flight of steps and rounded another corner and nearly collided with a slew of students who had shown up to see what the commotion was all about. The crush of students pushed Fred and George backwards. They looked at one another and shrugged, and let themselves be pushed back before separating themselves from the crowd.  
  
In the next instant more Slytherins--all of them members of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad--came down the flight of stairs, followed by several other students who'd clearly been victims of the Portable Swamp. Fred and George looked up to see Draco Malfoy and his band of prats smiling smugly down at them. Fred gave them a cheeky grin and shrugged.  
  
Then came the teachers, some ghosts, and even Peeves, who was giggling maniacally (he must have seen the Portable Swamp, Fred mused).  
  
The people round them were arranged in a kind of ring. Fred and George were trapped. For the moment.  
  
He looked round the crowd and found her. Angelina pushed her way to the front of the crowd and started toward him, but Fred looked at her intently and shook his head.  
  
Don't, he thought. Don't you get into it, too. This is for George and me.  
  
She bit her lip and nodded, but already her eyes filled with tears.  
  
Fred looked away; that awful clenching was in his chest again. His eyes moved round the crowd again and he saw Ron, whose blue eyes were as wide as saucers, and Hermione, who was clinging to Ron's arm so tightly her knuckles were white. Then he saw Harry, a few feet away, whose face was flushed as if he'd been running.  
  
And finally...  
  
"So!" came the triumphant voice of Professor Umbridge. "So...you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?"  
  
Fred glared up at her, and felt absolutely no fear. He glanced at George, then back up at Umbridge.  
  
"Pretty amusing, yeah," he said, tilting his head and daring her to make a move. She didn't, but her triumphant gaze faltered for a moment, just slightly. She obviously hadn't expected open defiance. Fred grinned darkly at her.  
  
There was the sound of shoving and Filch suddenly burst through the crowd to stand next to Umbridge. He was panting heavily and he had an old piece of parchment in his hand.  
  
"I've got the form, Headmistress," he said, his voice wheezing. "I've got the form and I've got the whips waiting...oh, let me do it now..."  
  
Fred and George rolled their eyes. Poor Filch. He'd been dying to beat the snot out of the both of them since the day they'd crossed paths, and now, just when Filch was legally allowed to perform one of the "old punishments," Fred and George were denying him the opportunity. Fred almost felt sorry for the old goat.  
  
"Very good, Argus," Umbridge was saying, her eyes glittering as she glared at Fred and George. "You two are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school."  
  
In HER school? Fred thought furiously. This is OUR school, you shriveled up bint, Hogwarts belongs to the students and the teachers and to Dumbledore. The fearlessness Fred felt surged through his veins, and he smiled coolly at Umbridge.  
  
"You know what?" he said. "I don't think we are. George, I think we've...outgrown full-time education."  
  
George smiled lazily at Umbridge and then looked at Fred. "Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself."  
  
"Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?" said Fred, gazing at Umbridge. He was delighted to see her triumphant face screw up into a mask of indignation.  
  
"Definitely," said George. He and Fred exchanged glances, nodded, and raised their wands.  
  
"Accio Brooms!"  
  
Fred wasn't sure just how or why they'd managed it. Perhaps it was the combined force of two Summoning Charms at once, or perhaps it was the adrenaline, the sheer force of will behind them, but the loud crash from somewhere in the distance told Fred that the magic had worked, had broken through the massive lock Umbridge had put on their brooms to keep them secured to her desk in her office. The students and teachers were all looking round in confusion when suddenly two brooms--one of them trailing a heavy chain and iron peg--came hurtling into the entrance hall.  
  
Several students squeaked and ducked out of the way as the peg swung dangerously before the brooms descended in flight and zoomed toward Fred and George; the peg and chain hit the floor and clattered loudly as it was dragged across the stone floor.  
  
Fred grabbed his broom and swung a leg over it, not bothering to remove the chain and peg.  
  
"We won't be seeing you," he said smugly to Umbridge.  
  
"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch," said George, as he, too, mounted his own broom.  
  
Fred glanced round at the crowd; to almost all of them had eyes as wide as saucers and stood silent. All but Angelina's. Hers were sad and teary and her cheeks were wet. Fred clutched his broomhandle tightly to keep from launching himself at her and smothering her face with kisses. He cleared his throat and spoke very loudly.  
  
"If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Our new premises!"  
  
George grinned wickedly. "Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat," he added, pointing at Umbridge, whose face went white with fury.  
  
"STOP THEM!" she shrieked, her façade of control crumbling. Her band of Slytherins started toward the twins, but Fred simply scoffed as he and George kicked off from the ground and rose several feet into the air, out of reach. The chain and peg dangling off Fred's broom swung dangerously, and several students stepped out of the way.  
  
He looked one last time at Angelina, who was now smiling through her tears.  
  
"I love you," he whispered, and he saw her say the words to him. His heart felt like it was going to explode.  
  
He turned to Peeves, who was bobbing nearby.  
  
"Give her hell from us, Peeves," he said. Peeves gave a cry of delight and swept his bowler hat off his head in salute, and Fred and George turned on their brooms. With one last wave to Angelina, Fred sped after George and the two of them soared through the open front doors and out into the approaching dusk.  
  
________________________________________________________________________  
  
A/N: Still not over.  
  
Also, I borrowed the George/Lee bit from Shezzly, who had a similar little plot device with the twins in the final chapter of her excellent Harry/Ginny story "Aftermath." I do hope she doesn't mind! :-) 


	18. Chapter Eighteen: The Joke Shop

Chapter Eighteen: The Joke Shop  
  
"Merlin, would you look at this place," said Fred in awe. "It's bloody huge."  
  
He and George were standing in the middle of their premises in Diagon Alley. It was the very next day after their flight from Hogwarts. They had rented a room in The Leaky Cauldron for the moment.  
  
The shop was a large, rectangular shaped building with a huge front window. The place itself was completely bare.  
  
"Won't feel so huge once we get our stuff in here, put up some shelves," said George. "Speaking of which, getting our inventory up to speed is going to be a nightmare. And we'll have to hire a few people to work the registers and what. And then there's--"  
  
"George, shut it," said Fred firmly. "Don't bore me with logistics."  
  
"I'm just trying to be realistic, Twin," said George.  
  
"Bugger realism," said Fred. "I just want to imagine for a minute. Shelves and shelves of our stuff, place crammed full of people throwing their money at us..."  
  
He closed his eyes and tried to imagine such things, but all he could really imagine at the moment was Angelina.  
  
"Damn," said Fred.  
  
"Thinking about your girl, too?" said George miserably.  
  
"How did Alicia take it, anyway?" said Fred. "You never told me."  
  
"Not well," said George, kicking at an imaginary dust bunny on the floor. "We fought."  
  
"You?" said Fred, surprised. George and Alicia never fought about anything.  
  
"Yeah," said George. "It was a bloody nightmare. I've never seen her get so angry. Thought she was going to hurt me or something. She almost did, actually."  
  
George shook his head, but then a smile crossed his face and he chuckled.  
  
"What?" said Fred.  
  
"I was just thinking, about Alicia and me, how we left things," said George, his grin widening.  
  
Fred eyed him for a moment and then understood.  
  
"Let me guess," he said. "One minute you two were screaming at each other and the next minute you were tearing each other's clothes off and shagging each other stupid."  
  
"Something to that effect, yeah," said George. "Remind me to make Alicia angry more often. Best damn sex we've ever had."  
  
"That's lovely, George," said Fred, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Look who's talking, you randy git," said George.  
  
"Yeah, yeah," said Fred. "Look, let's get going. We have supplies to buy, shelves to install. Might as well get started now."  
  
"It would be nice to have the place in order before Mum finds out," said George.  
  
"You mean it would be nice to have the place in order before she kills us," said Fred.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
For the next week, Fred and George alternated between working on the joke shop and searching for a flat to share. They finally found one two streets away from their shop that was as perfect as they could have hoped for; they each had their own bedroom and made the third bedroom into an office. It was a smallish sort of place, with only one loo and a small galley kitchen and a tiny living room, and the rent was higher than they would have liked. They were going through Galleons very quickly; by the end of the week most of the Triwizard earnings Harry had given him were gone, and they were having to keep track of every Knut they spent.  
  
Putting the shop together turned out to be exhausting work. Not only did Fred and George have to spend hours a day simply recreating their inventions, they had to arrange shelves, make signs, install cash registers, and the like. Then there was the process of moving into their flat; they had to buy furniture, which was expensive. They simply didn't have enough money to fully furnish their new home, so in the end they decided to buy only beds and add to the place once the shop itself opened.  
  
In the meantime they maintained their mail-order business, which kept a small trickle of money coming in. Not enough to be remotely comfortable, but enough to live on. In any case, the twins were used to relative poverty; George jokingly referred to their current financial status as "living on the edge in true Weasley fashion."  
  
In between all of this, Fred wrote letters to Angelina. He sent none of them, knowing that none would pass through Umbridge's letter screeners, but he wrote them anyway. It was the only way he knew how to feel close to her. He missed her terribly and only hoped she was doing all right. He hoped she missed him as much as he missed her.  
  
George wasn't faring much better without Alicia around; the upshot of missing their girlfriends was that it inspired them to keep busy. Fred approached each day with a kind of maniacal focus. As long as he kept busy he didn't dwell on missing Angelina, missing their conversations, missing making love with her.  
  
Ten days after leaving Hogwarts, the joke shop was nearly complete. Shelves were fully stocked with Fred and George's inventions. Colorful signs and placards filled the space and directed customers to specific types of merchandise. The sign out front boldly proclaimed their store's name.  
  
Fred and George were in the process of checking inventory and going over their books when a sharp voice caused them to look up.  
  
"So!"  
  
Mrs. Weasley was standing there, and behind her were Mr. Weasley and Bill, both of whom were thin-lipped and silent. Mrs. Weasley was white-faced with rage.  
  
"Uh," said Fred, "hi, Mum."  
  
"Don't you 'hi Mum' me, Frederick Michael Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley shrilled. "Just what in the name of Merlin do you two think you are doing?"  
  
"Molly--" Mr. Weasley began. Bill pursed his lips even tighter; it was obvious he was trying not to laugh. Fred glared at him.  
  
"Be quiet, Arthur!" said Mrs. Weasley, not looking at her husband, her livid blue eyes staring holes into Fred and George. "Well, explain yourselves. And make it good."  
  
Fred and George looked at each other.  
  
"This is our shop," said Fred. "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes."  
  
"I can see that," said Mrs. Weasley sharply.  
  
"It's not quite done yet," said George. "We open this coming weekend."  
  
"Oh, do you?" said Mrs. Weasley. "How...nice."  
  
Her tone suggested that she didn't think their grand opening was at all nice.  
  
"So," said Mrs. Weasley again, and she began to pace back and forth, her eyes on her twin sons. "THIS is the reason you left school. This...shop."  
  
"One of the reasons, anyway," said George.  
  
"Look, Mum--" Fred began.  
  
"Don't you dare, Fred," said Mrs. Weasley. "I can't believe you would do this! Both of you! Leaving school! Turning a school corridor into a SWAMP?! Oh, yes, I got a letter first thing this morning telling me all about your little stunt. Are you aware that the teachers can't seem to get rid of that swamp? That Argus Filch is having to row students across your little muck- hole in a PUNT?!"  
  
"Really?" said George eagerly.  
  
"Excellent," said Fred, without thinking.  
  
"It is NOT EXCELLENT!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked. "Do you have any idea how dangerous things are for your father and for Bill? How much trouble this Umbridge woman could make for them? It's bad enough that Ron was mixed-up in that Dumbledore's Army thing, that Harry was mixed up in it--"  
  
"So were we," said Fred defiantly.  
  
"Fred, what are you doing?" said George, through gritted teeth.  
  
"No, George," said Fred, feeling his temper boil hot all of a sudden.  
  
"Fred, you listen to me--" began Mrs. Weasley.  
  
"No, YOU LISTEN!" Fred bellowed, so loudly and forcefully that Mrs. Weasley's eyes went as wide as saucers, Mr. Weasley blinked furiously, Bill closed his eyes and put his head in his hand, and George made a loud wincing noise.  
  
Fred didn't care. He was tired of listening to his mother's tirades, tired of having to justify himself.  
  
"George and I left school," he said, "because that Umbridge cow turned Hogwarts into a bloody...PRISON, all right? Nobody was learning anything, the teachers were always being 'inspected' by her. Oh yeah, and did I mention her detentions? Yeah, Lee served detention with her, and do you know what she did? Made him write lines with a special quill of hers, only that special quill cut his hand open and made him write lines in his own blood. I guess George and me were just lucky that we only got detentions with Snape this year."  
  
There was a silence, and Mrs. Weasley stared open-mouthed at her son. For once, she seemed entirely incapable of speech. Fred, who was breathing hard, went on.  
  
"I'm glad I was in Dumbledore's Army," he said, "I'm glad I was one of the people who stood up to that bitch. And I'm not sorry I left school. I'm not sorry that George and me got to make Umbridge taking over the school really difficult for her. She spent her first day as Headmistress running all over the school like an idiot thanks to us, and I'm bloody well GLAD. And another thing. George and me are NOT idiots, Mum. Just because we were never Head Boy, just because we didn't get fifty O.W.Ls doesn't make us idiots. We're damn good at inventing stuff, people like the stuff we make, and just because we're not going to be sitting at a desk in the Ministry doesn't mean we don't have any ambition. We've been wanting this damn place for two years, we've worked our arses off for it, we've EARNED it, dammit, and we're going to have it. It's what makes us happy. If you don't like the idea of having two sons who run a joke business, that's just too bloody bad. We can't live our lives the way you dictate, Mum, not anymore. We have to do what makes US happy, and we're going to do it whether you like it or not."  
  
Fred's voice went hoarse as he finished his shouting, and he let out a great sigh and immediately felt a little horrified with himself. He'd never gone off on his mother like that. Ever.  
  
He felt even more horrified when his mother's eyes filled with tears.  
  
"Nice one, Fred," said George. "Maybe you should have let me do the talking."  
  
"Molly," said Mr. Weasley gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. He glared at Fred.  
  
"Is th-that what you think?" said Mrs. Weasley tearfully. "That I only c- care about Head Boy and your t-test scores?"  
  
"Sometimes," said Fred. George punched him in the arm and gave him a murderous look.  
  
"No," he said.  
  
"I j-just wanted you two to try h-harder," said Mrs. Weasley, taking out a handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes. "I know you're not idiots. You're very smart. I just wanted you to do well in school. Like Bill and Charlie and--"  
  
"Percy?" Fred finished. Mrs. Weasley let out a sob.  
  
"Fred, do you think maybe NOW you can shut it?" said George, as he, Mr. Weasley and Bill all glowered at him.  
  
"Mum," said Fred gently, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. And you're right, George and me haven't made things easy on you and...we're sorry. We should have been more responsible. But...see, that's what we're doing now. Being responsible. Renting out this place and setting up a business and earning our way. George and me have a whole plan, okay? This wasn't done on a whim. You know it wasn't."  
  
"Obviously," said Mrs. Weasley, but her tone was without anger or malice. "You've been sneaking around with this for almost two years, haven't you? Didn't listen to me when I told you not to. Even when I binned half your things you didn't listen to me. Stubborn little brats, the both of you."  
  
"We take after you," said Fred, which earned him yet another punch in the arm from George. At this rate Fred's arm would be black and blue.  
  
But Mrs. Weasley looked up at Fred and began to laugh. For a moment nobody did anything, they all simply stared at her, but as Mrs. Weasley's laughter became more raucous, the Weasley men joined in.  
  
"Oh, dear," said Mrs. Weasley. "There's really nothing I CAN do, is there? To make you change your minds?"  
  
"No," said Fred.  
  
"No," said George, a little hesitantly.  
  
"What do you think of this?" said Mrs. Weasley, turning to her husband.  
  
Mr. Weasley blanched a bit and Fred bit his lip to keep from laughing.  
  
"Well, Molly, dear, they ARE of age," said Mr. Weasley. "And we've always said that in the end our children should do what makes them happy."  
  
"Damn," said Mrs. Weasley, "we did say that, didn't we?"  
  
"I'm afraid so," said Mr. Weasley smiling.  
  
"Well," said Mrs. Weasley, turning briskly to Fred and George. "I'll be frank. I don't like it. This joke shop business. But your father is right. You're of age and you've earned the right to make a living the way you see fit."  
  
"So...you're okay with it, then?" said Fred hopefully.  
  
"Eventually I will be," said Mrs. Weasley. "I have to admit, boys, you...you've done quite a fair job with the place. Looks quite nice, actually."  
  
"Thanks," said Fred and George together.  
  
"And I WAS relieved to hear that you didn't get your seed money by engaging in any illegal activities," said Mrs. Weasley pointedly. "Though I do think Harry was far too generous, giving you his Triwizard earnings like that."  
  
"Harry told you that?" said George.  
  
"Ron did," said Mr. Weasley.  
  
"I think Ron wanted to head off one of Mum's Howlers," said Bill.  
  
"Oh, Bill," said Mrs. Weasley, rolling her eyes. "I don't ALWAYS send Howlers when I'm angry."  
  
At this all three Weasley sons burst into laughter.  
  
________________________________________________________________________  
  
A/N: A huge thank you to all my faithful readers and reviewers, but I must single out Bee 11 for alerting me to some nasty plagiarism going on over at FictionAlley. Some git calling himself/herself TentaculaSeeds is posting my story "A Very Thin Line" as his/her own. I have since alerted FictionAlley to this. I can't tell you how much I appreciate being told about this--I've witnessed some plagiarism against a couple of other authors on this site and it's really disgusting. Imitation is not the sincerest form of flattery!  
  
Oh yeah, and I'm still not done with THIS particular story. Lots of fluffy romance and naughtiness yet to come! 


	19. Chapter Nineteen: Meet the Parent

Chapter Nineteen: Meet the Parent  
  
"Lessee, total sales to date, minus overhead and we're looking at--" Fred finished writing out the figures on a blank piece of parchment--"profit of five-hundred twenty two Galleons, forty-eight Sickles and sixteen Knuts."  
  
"You're joking," said George, and he pulled the piece of parchment with Fred's latest sales figures across the desk. George eyed the parchment and whistled.  
  
"That's two weeks worth," said George. "Not bad."  
  
"Not bad at all," said Fred. "A lot of those Hogwarts students really came through for us, looks like."  
  
"We need more ad space," said George firmly.  
  
"Good luck," said Fred darkly. "Like The Daily Prophet is going to run an ad of ours, no matter how much we offer to pay for it."  
  
"True," said George. "Umbridge has no doubt alerted the Ministry--"  
  
"--and the Ministry has no doubt told The Prophet, which is nothing but a bloody propaganda arm for Fudge," said Fred.  
  
"Bloody hell," said George, shoving the parchment back and sitting back in his chair.  
  
They sat at their big desk in the study in their flat. The first two weeks since the grand opening of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes had gone far better than they expected, but the bulk of their profits thus far had come from Hogwarts students who'd pre-ordered their products. Fred knew they couldn't continue to turn healthy profits without advertising; word-of-mouth didn't count for much in the competitive joke shop industry, particularly in Diagon Alley, where shops opened every day only to fold six months later.  
  
On top of this, they still needed a few employees to help them out; running the shop by themselves was exhausting. Mrs. Weasley had offered to help, but Fred and George immediately demurred; no doubt Mrs. Weasley wouldn't approve of many of their products and the last thing they needed was their mother hovering over them.  
  
"I'm completely exhausted," George announced.  
  
"Me, too," said Fred dully.  
  
There was a silence; neither of them seemed too keen to get into yet another discussion of all that was needed to make the joke shop run more smoothly. Fred ran a hand over his face and stood up, walking to the window and peering down at the dimly lit, cobble-stoned street below. Dusk was fast approaching and shops were closing even as pubs and restaurants began to do their brisk evening business. Fred wished at that moment that Angelina was there, that he could take a walk with her and kiss her under the street lamp. He made a mental note to write her another letter tonight, another of his unsent, clumsy declarations. He'd give her all the letters when he next saw her, at the end of term.  
  
"Thinking about Angelina?" said George perceptively.  
  
Fred grimaced. Sometimes it was hell, being a twin.  
  
"Yeah," he admitted. "You thinking of Alicia?"  
  
"Constantly," said George.  
  
"This sucks," said Fred. "Really bloody sucks."  
  
"No kidding," said George. "Between the cold showers and not getting to talk to her every day--"  
  
"--not even getting to send letters," said Fred. "Invisible Ink isn't even any good, not with Umbridge's screeners opening all the mail."  
  
Another silence fell. Fred felt an ache in his chest. If he'd known how badly it would hurt him to have left Angelina behind at Hogwarts, he never would have left. But there was no going back. If only he could get word to her somehow, just to let her know that he was thinking about her, that he hadn't forgotten her, not even close.  
  
"Do you think we did the right thing, Fred?" George said suddenly. "Leaving, I mean?"  
  
"I'm starting to wonder," said Fred.  
  
"I've been thinking," said George, "maybe we ought to, you know, try and join the Order. Do something, I dunno, USEFUL."  
  
"Yeah," said Fred, and indeed this thought had occurred to him. They were both of age, they were no longer in school, they ought to be welcomed into the fold at this point.  
  
"On the other hand," said George, "I dunno what use we'd be to that lot."  
  
"Yeah," said Fred again. "Best to focus on what we're good at, I s'pose. Making joke stuff and making people laugh. Not like the Order really has much use for a Skiving Snackbox." His voice trailed off, as something clicked in his brain.  
  
"George," said Fred. "Invisible Ink."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Invisible Ink," said Fred. "Why don't we make some of our own?"  
  
"Why?" said George. "You said yourself it's no good for writing letters, not with Umbridge's screeners--"  
  
"I mean, an invisible ink that gets past Umbridge's screeners," said Fred. "Invisible ink that only reveals itself to the proper recipient of the correspondence."  
  
"Is that possible?" said George, but his eyes had lit up as he began to think of the possibilities.  
  
"Why not?" said Fred. "If we can turn a whole bloody corridor into a swamp, why not make an invisible ink that can get past a bunch of letter screeners?"  
  
"Better yet," said George, "why not make an ink that has a decoy sort of message? You know, to everyone else it looks like it's just some innocuous letter from Great Aunt Mabel or whatever, but to the recipient, they see who it's really from."  
  
"And we could sell it to the Order," said Fred. "Don't you see? Invisible Ink that nobody can read except the recipient? Impervious to every sort of Revealing Charm or spell. They could use it for, I dunno, spy stuff or whatever it is they do. Think of it. We increase our customer base by a shitload if we can get members of the Order on board. Even Mum would go for it."  
  
"Bloody hell," said George, grinning. "So we do something in our own self- interest--make a product that could bring us huge profits AND lets us communicate with our girlfriends--that also HAPPENS to be for a good cause."  
  
"Not to mention we'd be giving the bloody finger to Fudge and Umbridge and all those other prats," said Fred, rubbing his hands together eagerly.  
  
"Excellent," said George.  
  
"George," said Fred proudly, "I think we've just stumbled upon our true mission in life."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The next week brought intense activity. The twins took out a full page ad in The Quibbler ("A dodgy paper seems the perfect place to advertise for our dodgy products," said Fred), promising free samples of Canary Creams and Fainting Fancies to all first-time customers (with the purchase of any other product, of course). The strategy worked, and more and more customers began to show up to the shop. In that single week, they took in four times as much in profits as they had in all the months they'd run the mail-order business.  
  
In their spare time, Fred and George worked on their invisible ink. They decided to call it Weasley's Wily Writer (neither could resist using alliterative titles as often as possible).  
  
Unfortunately, they quickly realized that producing an invisible ink that was impervious to any and all Revealing Charms and Spells proved to be far more difficult than they had first envisioned.  
  
"Fuck," said Fred angrily, as George's latest Revealing Charm caused the lines of text he'd just written to appear--if very faintly--on the parchment.  
  
"Maybe we ought to do special parchment," George suggested. "You know, to go with the ink."  
  
"You're mad," said Fred. "We can't even do the ink and you want to do parchment on top of it. When are you planning to sleep?"  
  
"I'm not sleeping much anyway," said George dully.  
  
"Join the club," said Fred irritably.  
  
They sat back in their chairs and stared at their many bottles of experimental ink and the many pieces of parchment they'd gone through in testing it.  
  
"That's what I miss most, you know," said George. "The sleeping part. Falling asleep next to her. And waking up."  
  
Fred looked at his twin, who'd gone very red in the face.  
  
"Go on, laugh," said George.  
  
"I'm not laughing," said Fred. "I was just going to say I agree with you."  
  
"The final Quidditch match is coming up," said George.  
  
"I know," said Fred.  
  
"I wonder how bad they'll lose," said George.  
  
"With Ron Keeping?" said Fred pointedly. "And those two idiots as Beaters?"  
  
"I hope it's over quickly," said George grimly.  
  
"Angie's going to be devastated," said Fred. "Bloody hell. You should have seen her after that match with Hufflepuff. All she wanted was to have a good team. She's not going to get another chance as captain."  
  
George sighed and got up from his chair.  
  
"This is hell," he said. "I hate not knowing what's going on."  
  
"Five weeks," said Fred. "That's what I keep telling myself. Five weeks and school's out and they come home."  
  
"Feels like five years," said George.  
  
Fred said nothing, but only closed his eyes as he silently agreed with his twin.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Thank you," said Fred, as he handed the customer her parcel and change. "Do come again."  
  
The plump witch smiled. "Oh, I surely will, dear. My nephew adores your products." She turned and left the shop, and for the first time that day, Fred found himself alone in the store.  
  
He relished the quiet and the emptiness. George had gone to the back to deposit their latest earnings into their joint account; after that he was going to The Quibbler's offices to drop off a half-page help wanted ad. It had become apparent in the aftermath of their advertising for the store that they could not possibly run the shop by themselves. It had simply become too busy.  
  
But for the moment, Fred was alone. Blessedly alone. He sighed and opened up his ledger and his eyes scanned their latest inventory and profit reports. He didn't really take in any of the figures, but it was something quiet to do, and he could allow his mind to wander where it inevitably and always did. To Angelina.  
  
The match was on Saturday. He would have given his right arm just to be able to drop her a note, just a little greeting wishing her luck and telling her he loved her. But their work on Weasley's Wily Writer had gotten nowhere. The best they'd been able to accomplish was a very good invisible ink that had become so impervious to every Revealing Charm they could think that it wouldn't reveal itself at all, even to the intended recipient.  
  
The front door gave its familiar jangle thanks to the bell installed there, and Fred looked up to see another customer.  
  
He was a very tall, very broad black wizard with a close-cropped, graying beard and equally close-cropped graying hair. He had large, very dark brown eyes, full lips and his skin was rich and brown. He wore elegant robes of midnight blue and he looked terribly imposing and serious. Not at all the sort who bought joke things. But there was something oddly familiar about him. Fred was quite certain he'd never seen the wizard before in his  
  
"Good afternoon," Fred said, a bit nervously. "Welcome to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Can I show you anything in particular?"  
  
"I'm looking for Frederick Weasley," said the man, and although he hadn't spoken loudly, his voice seemed to boom about the shop. It was a deep, powerful voice. Fred involuntarily took a step back. This was not a wizard to be messed with. Fred wondered if the man worked for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Maybe he had come to arrest Fred and George for the Portable Swamp. Fred wouldn't put it past Umbridge to report them to the authorities.  
  
But as the wizard stared him down, Fred found himself clearing his throat and saying, "I'm Frederick Weasley. Can I help you?"  
  
"How do you do, Mr. Weasley," said the wizard. Fred bit back the urge to chuckle. The man had to be thirty years older than he, yet here he was calling Fred "Mr. Weasley."  
  
"I am Bernard Johnson," the wizard went on. He gave Fred a rather pointed look.  
  
Johnson, Fred thought, and he swallowed.  
  
"Mr.--Johnson?" he managed.  
  
"I believe you're acquainted with my daughter, Angelina," said Mr. Johnson.  
  
Merlin, but it was Angelina's father. Fred swallowed again.  
  
"Yes," he said, his voice tight with nerves. He didn't like the way Angelina's father was staring at him. "I, uh, know Angie, er, Angelina."  
  
"You've been friends with her for quite some time," said Mr. Johnson. It was not a question.  
  
"Y-yes, sir," said Fred.  
  
"She's told us--her mother and me--all about you, of course," said Mr. Johnson. "She's written about you very frequently. Fred this, Fred that. She tells me you've been a very good friend to her."  
  
"I--I hope so, sir," said Fred.  
  
"Is there anything else between you and my daughter that I should be aware of?" asked Mr. Johnson.  
  
Bloody hell, thought Fred. Here it is. He knows or he's figured out or-- Merlin--Angie's told her parents that something's going on with us. And now he's here to interrogate me and if I say something stupid he'll probably kill me.  
  
"Uh," said Fred slowly, "well, sir, you see--" His voice trailed off.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I love your daughter," Fred blurted.  
  
There was a silence. It probably didn't last more than a few seconds, but those few seconds were the longest of Fred's life.  
  
"Do you?" said Mr. Johnson coolly.  
  
"Yes, sir," said Fred quickly, his throat working furiously against the dryness of his mouth. He began to babble. "I do. Like mad. She's wonderful. My best mate in the world. I love her and--and when I say that I mean it with nothing but the most honorable intentions, sir, and-and I'm pretty sure she loves me, too-at least I hope she does--and I know I dropped out of school, sir, to start this shop up with my brother but it's something we've been wanting to do for ages and-and it's been going really well and I'm saving up lots of money and-and I know my family doesn't have a lot of money or anything and I'll probably never be rich but I work really hard and I'll keep working really hard and I really, really love your daughter and she's the most wonderful person I've ever met and please don't kill me."  
  
Mr. Johnson stared at Fred for a long moment; Fred gulped and waited for it. Waited for Mr. Johnson to tell him that Fred wasn't good enough for his daughter, was nothing but a drop-out and a loser.  
  
Instead Mr. Johnson laughed, a deep, throaty kind of laugh that did nothing to calm Fred's swooping stomach.  
  
"Don't kill you," said Mr. Johnson, chuckling. "Why would I do that?"  
  
Fred laughed nervously and felt his face flush. "Oh, uh, no reason."  
  
"Sorry," said Mr. Johnson. "You'll have to forgive me. Angelina would kill me if she knew I was here, doing my Concerned Father routine. But I thought it was high time I met the young man my daughter's so enamoured of."  
  
"Oh," said Fred, feeling his stomach settle down even as he tried not to smile, tried not to look so pleased with himself.  
  
"I also have something for you," said Mr. Johnson, and he removed from his robes a letter. "From Angelina. It took longer than usual. Apparently there are all sorts of screeners going through all the mail in and out of the school. So this letter went through several indirect channels before getting to me."  
  
Fred took the letter, his hand trembling. He felt like jumping up and down. He felt like crying. How had she managed to write him at all?  
  
"It was sent to me," said Mr. Johnson. "Tucked inside a few extra envelopes. Once I saw the name on it I knew I had the perfect excuse to meet you. You needn't worry. I didn't read the letter itself." He grinned.  
  
"How-how did she manage it?" said Fred, bewildered. "The screeners would have seen--"  
  
"--apparently Angelina was able to get help from one of the professors," said Mr. Johnson, "who was able to slip it past the usual process."  
  
Fred looked up at Mr. Johnson and smiled weakly. "Thank you, sir. This means--thank you very much."  
  
"My pleasure," said Mr. Johnson, smiling again. "It's nice to finally meet you. I think I can see why my daughter thinks so highly of you. Good day to you. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other in the future."  
  
"Yes sir," said Fred. "I hope so, sir."  
  
And with that, Mr. Johnson nodded and swept out of the shop, leaving Fred standing there alone again, gaping at the letter in his hand.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Two minutes later Fred grabbed the Out to Lunch sign from beneath the sales counter, propped it up in the door, locked it, and raced to the back office, tearing open the letter as he went.  
  
He barely sat down as he spread out the wrinkled parchment and began to read, his heart pounding.  
  
Dear Fred,  
  
I have no idea if you'll get this or not. McGonagall helped me get it out;  
I think she misses you almost as much as I do.  
  
And bloody hell, I miss you. I don't even know how to describe it in  
words. I can't believe I was so stupid not to have admitted to myself how  
I felt about you sooner. Then maybe we could have had some more time  
together before you left.  
  
The final Quidditch match is this Saturday. At this point I just hope we  
don't lose too badly. Although I have to say, your little brother seems a bit  
more confident about things these days, and he's flying better. Maybe he  
figures we have nothing more to lose or something. Part of me is glad you  
won't be here to see us lose, but another part of me wishes you could be  
here. I still think about that time in the Quidditch tent, after we lost to  
Hufflepuff, and how you, uh, "comforted" me. (Heh heh heh). I can't help  
but wish you could be there again, only this time I wouldn't run away  
from you. On the contrary I'd drag you into the bloody showers and finish  
what you started.  
  
"Oh, Angie," said Fred, grinning, his mind now swimming with very lovely images of her ravishing him in the showers.  
  
Goddammit, I wish you were here. I know why you can't be. I hope  
the shop is going well. I miss you so damn much and I can't wait to see  
you again. You had better be waiting for me on the platform at King's  
  
Cross and hug me and kiss me until I can't breathe (well, maybe you can  
kiss me when my parents aren't around).  
  
Take care of yourself. I love you so much it hurts.  
  
Angie  
  
"Likewise," Fred whispered, and he felt his eyes sting.  
  
He read the letter again, and again, and again, hoping to find some comfort in her words, but instead the letter only made him feel her absence even more. He couldn't stand it. Five more weeks without her was like a lifetime.  
  
He looked at his watch and realized he ought to re-open the shop. He had skipped lunch, but he wasn't hungry. His stomach was too tied up in knots. The Quidditch match was two days away.  
  
I've never, ever missed a match with her, he thought. All the years I played, I played with her, and even when I was banned, I watched. And now I'm going to miss the last match of her life as a Hogwarts student. As Quidditch captain.  
  
"No," he said out loud, and all at once he stood up.  
  
The decision came to him in a flash, and he knew it was the only decision to make. 


	20. Chapter Twenty: The Quidditch Cup Final

Chapter Twenty: The Quidditch Cup Final  
  
"Ah, yes, Mr. Weasley and...Mr. Weasley," said the desk clerk. "Twins. How nice. And how will you be paying for your rooms?"  
  
"Cash," Fred said promptly, and he shoved a neatly stacked pile of Galleons and Sickles at the clerk.  
  
"Of course," said the clerk, giving them a look somewhere between a smile and a smirk. "If you'll just excuse me for a moment while I fetch your room keys."  
  
The clerk turned on his heel and abandoned the front desk, disappearing through a door behind it.  
  
"I was mad to let you talk me into this," said George through gritted teeth.  
  
"I didn't talk you into anything, you tosser," said Fred. "You volunteered to come, remember? And quite enthusiastically, I might add."  
  
"That was before I knew we were going to freeze our bollocks off flying here and before you spent nearly every Galleon of the weeks profits on this little adventure," said George. "Two luxury suites in the nicest inn in Hogsmeade AND an Invisibility Cloak, and I'm not even going to ask where you found that."  
  
"You can find lots of good shit in Knockturn Alley," said Fred quickly, and he smiled brightly as the clerk reappeared.  
  
"Here you are," said the clerk, holding out two large brass keys. "Rooms 411 and 412. Would you like to put your brooms in storage?"  
  
"No, thanks," said Fred quickly, shoving the second brass key in George's hand. The twins nodded at the clerk, picked up their brooms and overnight bags, and made for the stairs.  
  
"I can't believe you bought an Invisibility Cloak in Knockturn Alley," George huffed as they climbed the stairs. "You probably got completely ripped off."  
  
"Most definitely," said Fred, trying not to remember the actual physical pain of handing over all those Galleons to the very shady looking character he'd bought the robe from.  
  
"All I have to say is Alicia had better be damn happy to see me," said George.  
  
"I'm sure she'll rip your clothes off the minute she lays eyes on you," said Fred, rolling his eyes and he opened the door to his room.  
  
The suite was called a luxury suite for a reason. It wasn't especially large, but it was elegantly appointed, with rich drapes and plush carpet and a very large bed in the center of it all. To the left was a small dining table that doubled as a desk. A chest of drawers was flush with the back wall, next to a small door leading into the bathroom.  
  
"Nice," said Fred, grinning widely. George started to come in and Fred shoved him back. "Get your own room," he said.  
  
George snorted and opened the door to his room and went inside; Fred heard a low whistle in the next room.  
  
Fred chuckled to himself and tossed his overnight bag carelessly onto a chair, opened it to check again for the letters he'd written, then checked his watch.  
  
"Oi, Twin!" he called. "Match starts in fifteen minutes."  
  
"Right," said George, and he reappeared in the open doorway of Fred's room, broomstick in hand.  
  
"Got the Omnioculars?" said Fred.  
  
"I've got them," said George.  
  
"So we're clear on the plan, then?" said Fred.  
  
"Christ, 'The Plan,'" said George, shaking his head. "Brilliant plan. We watch the match from our brooms at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Then after the match we fly down, put on that bloody cloak and grab our girls and come back to the hotel. Is that the gist of it?"  
  
"That's it," said Fred, clapping his twin on the back.  
  
"And remind me again that we're NOT going to get caught," said George.  
  
"We're not going to get caught," said Fred, with a confidence he didn't really feel.  
  
It was mad. The whole bloody plan was mad. If they were caught on school grounds they'd be arrested and thrown into Azkaban. Or worse, thrown in a dungeon in the school somewhere to await Umbridge's tortures. If Angelina and Alicia were caught, they'd be expelled. And then Angelina's father WOULD come after Fred and kill him.  
  
"Let's go before I lose my damn nerve," said George.  
  
"Right," said Fred, and the two of them headed back down to the lobby with brooms in hand, waved cheerfully to the desk clerk, and exited The Boddington Inn.  
  
Fred wasted no time in mounting his broom. George did as well, but winced audibly.  
  
"What?" said Fred impatiently.  
  
"My damn balls are killing me, okay?" said George irritably. "A man's not meant to sit on a broom for eight hours at a time. Don't yours hurt? Bloody hell, we've already flown a million miles as it is. How'm I supposed to shag my girlfriend if I'm numb in the crotch?"  
  
"I'm sure you'll manage," said Fred, ignoring the tenderness in his own privates as he kicked off from the ground.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Bloody hell!" George hissed. Shouts went up in the Quidditch stands. Shouts and very audible groans.  
  
"What? What?" said Fred anxiously. "Give me those." He grabbed for the Omnioculars.  
  
"Dammit, Fred, I'm not done with them," said George, snatching them away.  
  
"You've had them for two minutes," said Fred. "What the fuck is going on in the match?"  
  
"Fine, take them," said George, shoving the Omnioculars roughly into Fred's outstretched hand. "And if you want to know what just happened, Ron blew his first save."  
  
"Oh, goodie," said Fred, rolling his eyes. "What the hell is his problem, anyway? First prefect and now he can't play Quidditch worth a damn."  
  
"He's turning into Percy, I'm telling you," said George sadly.  
  
Fred was squinting through the Omnioculars now, trying to follow the action.  
  
"Damn," said Fred. "Ginny's really good. Hey! There's Angelina!"  
  
Fred watched happily as Angelina executed a perfect Sloth Grip Roll, dodging a Bludger, and hurled the Quaffle neatly past the Ravenclaw keeper.  
  
"Ha!" said Fred.  
  
"Gimme," said George, grabbing the Omnioculars.  
  
"Angie scored," said Fred proudly. George was staring through the Omnioculars again.  
  
"Shit," he said.  
  
"What?" said Fred.  
  
"Ravenclaw's going for goal," said George grimly. "I don't know if I can stand to--BLOODY HELL!"  
  
Raucous cheers went up from the crowd."  
  
"What? WHAT?!" Fred yelled.  
  
"Ron saved it!" said George, pulling the Omnioculars from his face. "I can't believe he saved it!"  
  
"Lemme see," said Fred, grabbing the Omnioculars again. He stared through them intently.  
  
"Alicia scored," he announced.  
  
"Damn, I wanted to see that!" said George, grabbing for the Omnioculars.  
  
"Not yet," said Fred, dodging George's reach, "Ravenclaw's going for goal again, I want to see what Ron does..."  
  
Fred gasped when a Ravenclaw Chaser feinted, then swerved right and hurled the Quaffle toward the hoop. He nearly dropped the Omnioculars when Ron jerked hard to the right and caught the Quaffle neatly in one large hand.  
  
"Ha ha, good one, Ron!" Fred shouted, so loudly that a flock of birds were disturbed in a nearby tree and shot into the air.  
  
"Shut up or you'll give us away," said George, snatching the Omnioculars back.  
  
"Nobody can hear us," said Fred, but he looked round and down at the pitch and the grounds all the same. Something caught his eye.  
  
"Wait a minute," he said.  
  
"What?" said George absently, still peering through the Omnioculars. "Oh, look," he added. "Kirke actually managed to send a Bludger in the right direction."  
  
"Down there," said Fred, poking George in the arm and pointing to the grounds below.  
  
"What?" George aimed the Omnioculars down at the three figures who were walking in a very determined path toward the Forbidden Forest.  
  
Even without the Omnioculars, it was obvious who was leading the way.  
  
"That's Hagrid," said Fred. "What's he up to?"  
  
"Blimey," said George. "That's Harry and Hermione."  
  
More cheers went up from the stands. George jerked the Omnioculars up.  
  
"Ron saved another one," said George in wonder. "Why didn't he do that in the other matches he played? Holy Merlin, and ANOTHER one! Did he put some kind of charm on himself?"  
  
"What the hell are Harry and Hermione doing going into the forest with Hagrid?" said Fred, his eyes and mind drawn away from the match to the progress of the three people below.  
  
"Who cares?" said George. More cheers. "Gryffindor scored again. Katie got that one."  
  
"Lemme see," said Fred eagerly, immediately forgetting all about Harry and Hermione. George relinquished the Omnioculars.  
  
The match went on for well over an hour more. Fred was beginning to fill distinctly numb in his nether regions; at this rate he'd be lucky to get it up at all when he finally got Angelina alone. But the thrill of watching the match--of watching Gryffindor finally play well--made the numbness down there a bit more manageable.  
  
"Ron's really good," said George, shaking his head. "I guess we can't say he's turning into Percy, can we?"  
  
"Another one!" Fred cried, watching as Ron smacked the Quaffle away with the end of his Cleansweep.  
  
"My turn," said George, holding out his hand for the Omnioculars as he shifted on his broom and winced. "Bloody balls are going to be numb for a week."  
  
"Here," said Fred, handing them over and shifting himself, hoping to bring some much-needed circulation back to his privates.  
  
George watched in silence for a moment and then gasped.  
  
"Shit, Fred! Ginny's seen the Snitch, she's going for it! It was right under Chang's nose!"  
  
"Gimme those!" Fred yelped. He tried to grab the Omnioculars from George.  
  
"Dammit, Fred," said George. "Just...you look through that lens, and I'll look through this one, okay?"  
  
"Fine," said Fred tightly, and he pulled his broomstick right next to George's and leaned in close, so quickly that the twins smacked skulls.  
  
"OW!" they said together.  
  
"Dammit," said Fred, and he managed to get his left eye into position and stared through the lens. Cheers were shaking the air now and Fred felt George grip his arm.  
  
"Jesus, she's really going for it," said George nervously. Ginny was in the midst of a frightening dive, putting on incredible speed, considering the junky school broom she was using.  
  
"Holy--"  
  
In the next instant Ginny swerved, rolled, and her fingers closed on the Golden Snitch.  
  
"SHIT!" Fred and George yelled together, knocking heads again. They didn't notice as they began to laugh out loud.  
  
"That's our little sister!" said George.  
  
"They won the Cup!" Fred yelled, not caring who heard him now, as if anyone could. The stands of the Quidditch stadium were screaming and shaking and vibrating, and in the distance Fred and George heard people singing.  
  
"What's that they're singing?" said George.  
  
"Sounds like...no way," said Fred, and he grinned. "'Weasley is Our King,' the Victory Version."  
  
"Heh, cool," said George. "I guess Ron's not so lame after all."  
  
"Hey," said Fred, looking down again. "They're coming out now."  
  
And indeed the grounds became flooded with Gryffindors, who were trooping en masse back to the castle and bearing Ron up over their shoulders; he held the gleaming Quidditch cup in his hands.  
  
"Look," said Fred, pointing. "Harry and Hermione are back."  
  
"They missed the whole match?" said George, shaking his head.  
  
"Ron'll be pissed off," said Fred.  
  
In the next instant the Gryffindors started indoors, still carrying Ron; he was being lifted so high and he was so tall that his head banged on the threshold of the front doors.  
  
"Ouch," said Fred and George together.  
  
"That'll leave a mark," said George. But Ron didn't seem to care; either he was too thrilled to have won or the bump on the head had knocked him senseless.  
  
"Where are the girls?" said Fred; George had the Omnioculars and he gazed into them, looking around carefully.  
  
"I don't see them...wait!" said George. "I see Alicia and...there's Angelina. Ooh."  
  
"What?" said Fred, as George began to chuckle.  
  
"Just our luck, bro," said George, lowering the Omnioculars and grinning wickedly. "They're headed for the showers."  
  
"Excellent," said Fred. "Let's go join them, shall we?"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Are you sure this damn thing will work?" George whispered, as Fred yanked the Invisibility Cloak from inside his robes and swirled it round the both of them.  
  
"I checked it before I bought it," said Fred defensively. "There, see?" Indeed, their bodies seemed to disappear until they were just two heads seemingly floating in mid-air.  
  
"This thing stinks," said George, screwing up his face in disgust. "Smells like...I dunno what it smells like but I don't want to think about it."  
  
"I didn't have time to wash it," said Fred. "Just suck it up, okay?"  
  
"This is excellent," said George. "I always wanted to sneak into the girls' showers. I can't believe I didn't sneak in when we were on the team."  
  
"Yeah, well, just don't go looking at Angie," said Fred sternly. "I'm the one with naked rights to Angie; that means no looking from you."  
  
"I wasn't going to," said George. "And you don't get to check out Alicia."  
  
"I won't," said Fred.  
  
"We are in such deep shite if we're caught, you do realize," said George, as Fred flipped the cloak over their heads.  
  
"I'm trying not to think about it," said Fred.  
  
They crept slowly toward the Gryffindor tent; the flaps of the tent were billowing in the warm spring breeze, and the sun was setting in the distance.  
  
Just then the front flap swung open and Alicia came sweeping out of the tent.  
  
"Shit," said George.  
  
"Well, call to her," Fred hissed. "We can't go into the bloody castle!"  
  
"Alicia!" George said, in a loud whisper.  
  
Alicia stopped and whirled around, her wand out.  
  
"Who's there?" she snapped, looking fierce.  
  
"'Liss, it's me!" said George, in a louder voice. "George!"  
  
Alicia's face went white. "George?" She looked terrified. "Where are you?"  
  
"Over here," George called, not taking the cloak off his head. "To your left."  
  
Alicia looked to her left; her eyes moved over them without seeing the twins and she swallowed.  
  
"George?"  
  
George lifted the cloak from his head, and in so doing, exposed Fred's head as well.  
  
Alicia yelped.  
  
"Shh!" George hissed, and he threw the cloak back over his head. "Go into the tent, 'Liss. We'll explain there."  
  
Alicia, whose mouth was open and whose eyes were wide as saucers, merely nodded and headed toward the tent. George and Fred followed.  
  
Once inside, Fred yanked the cloak off the both of them.  
  
"Thank god," said George. "The smell of that thing was killing me."  
  
"George!" Alicia hissed. "What the hell are you doing here?"  
  
"Nice to see you, too, 'Liss," said George.  
  
"Are you mad?" she went on. "If you're caught you'll get--"  
  
"Arrested and thrown into Azkaban," said George. "You know, Alicia, you could be at least a LITTLE happy that your boyfriend is risking imprisonment to see you."  
  
He gave her one of his charming smiles and Fred saw her melt right there.  
  
"Georgie," she said, her eyes filling with tears.  
  
"Christ," Fred muttered, looking away as George pulled Alicia into a tight embrace and kissed her mouth.  
  
Fred stood there for several seconds while George and Alicia sucked at each other's faces before clearing his throat.  
  
"Excuse me," he said. "Not that I don't LOVE watching you two snog each other stupid and all, but I'm looking for Angie."  
  
"In the showers," said Alicia, as George began to attack her neck with his lips.  
  
"Right," said Fred, his feet already moving in the direction of the girls' showers, hoping to find Angelina in some state of undress there.  
  
"Keep the cloak," he called to George, but George was busy with Alicia and Fred got the distinct impression the two of them didn't hear him.  
  
Not that Fred cared. He slipped into the girls showers to find the room full of steam and fragrant mist. He blinked and took a tentative step forward, then another. The hiss of water spraying came to his ears, and slowly his eyes came into focus.  
  
She was standing in a stall, under one of the shower heads, the curtain drawn, but she was so tall that she was visible from the shoulders up. Her eyes were closed as the water rained down over her head; her hair was no longer in braids but fell loose to her shoulders. Water streamed over her face and her full lips, over her shoulders, shoulders that Fred was dying to kiss. He smiled and took a few more steps into the locker room itself, feeling--to his immense relief--some rather noticeable stirrings below his belt. Angelina turned in the shower to face the wall, letting the water stream over her head and down her back.  
  
Fred couldn't stand it anymore. His hands were on fire. He took another step forward and cleared his throat.  
  
"Is there room in there for two?" 


	21. Chapter Twenty One: Showers and Room Ser...

Chapter Twenty One: Showers and Room Service  
  
"Jesus!" She whirled around, water flinging off her wet hair. Blinking against the water that dripped from her eyelashes, she gaped at him.  
  
"Fred?" she said. "Bloody...oh my god...FRED!?"  
  
"Hi, Angie," he said, grinning mischievously as he moved closer to her stall. "Miss me?" He held back, not wanting to try and get a good look at her yet for fear of jumping her on the spot.  
  
Angelina seemed to be Stunned, because for a moment she just stared at him, letting the water cascade over the back of her head. She blinked again and seemed to recover herself.  
  
"Oh, my god," she said. "What the hell are you doing here?" She smiled and her eyes filled with tears.  
  
Fred felt a lump in his own throat that competed against the lust stirring in his trousers.  
  
"Oh, you know," he said, trying to sound casual. "The match was today and I thought I'd drop by and check it out."  
  
"How did you get here?"  
  
"Flew," he said.  
  
"You flew?" she repeated. "On your broom?"  
  
"No, I flapped my arms, actually," he said. "They're bloody exhausted."  
  
She laughed and cried at the same time. "You're crazy."  
  
"I know," he said. "You make me crazy."  
  
"So it's my fault," she said, smiling.  
  
"Completely," he said.  
  
"You could get caught," she said.  
  
"I was careful," he said.  
  
They looked at each other for a long moment. Fred was dying to fling open the curtain and jump in the shower and ravish her, but it was not his move to make now. She seemed to be thinking about something as she appraised him.  
  
Then she lifted a hand and slid the shower curtain open. Fred felt a rush of blood sink south as she came into view. Tall and lean and curved and soft, her expanse of lush coffee and cream skin, slick and shiny and wet as water streamed over her.  
  
"Merlin," he said, drinking in the sight of her.  
  
"Missed you," she said huskily.  
  
"I missed you, too," he rasped.  
  
She giggled throatily.  
  
"Are you going to stand there or are you going to join me?" she said in a low voice.  
  
But she barely finished her sentence before he was there, standing under the hot water as it soaked his clothes, crushing his mouth against hers.  
  
"Jesus," he groaned against her mouth, as his hands found her wet, hot flesh and her hands moved swiftly beneath his wet clothing to clutch at the skin beneath.  
  
His hands and mouth traveled over her hungrily, and it was only now that he realized how desperately he had missed her. His mouth devoured her neck, her collarbones, the hollow at the base of her throat, her lush breasts. Her hands tangled in his wet hair as she sighed and moaned and threw back her head. He kissed her mouth again as she began to pull off his clothes.  
  
"Want you so bad," he muttered as she pulled off his robes, his jumper, peeled the wet t-shirt from him skin and yanked it over his head.  
  
Everything became hot and fast and desperate. His fingers finding her sex, stroking and sliding inside to find her already wet. Her hands at his jeans, opening the buttons and yanking them down and pulling his boxers with them, her hands on him. Him pressing her against the wall, reaching under her knee and pulling her left leg up to wrap around his hips, positioning himself. Her bracing herself on the wall, gripping his buttocks, gasping and moaning as he thrust into her hard, again and again.  
  
It was over almost as fast as it had begun; Fred had not even thrust a dozen times when she gasped and shuddered against him. He felt her tighten around him and his control snapped; it was too much, being away from her all these weeks and being inside her now. He released into her with a groan, his legs almost giving out beneath him.  
  
He held her against him, his arms round her, and still the water came down on them, still hot and soothing. They stood in silence, naked, warm, complete; her head rested on his shoulder.  
  
"Bloody hell," he whispered into her shoulder.  
  
She giggled. "That was dirty."  
  
"Was not," said Fred, kissing her nose. "We're in the shower."  
  
"True," she said, and they kissed. Slow, soft.  
  
"Oi! Twin!"  
  
"Shit," said Fred, pulling his lips away from Angelina's. He shut off the water.  
  
"George is here, too?" said Angelina, her eyes widening.  
  
"Yeah," said Fred, rolling his eyes. "He insisted on coming along. You know how he gets."  
  
Angelina giggled.  
  
"What, George?" Fred called.  
  
"Let's go, yeah?" said George.  
  
"You're not leaving now," said Angelina, gripping Fred's arm.  
  
"Yeah," said Fred, "but you're coming with us."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Fred, are you two decent or what?" George called.  
  
"In a minute," Fred called back, and checking to see that they were indeed alone in the locker room, he climbed from the shower, picked up his soaking clothes, pulled out his wand, and used a Drying Charm.  
  
"Fred, what did you mean by 'you're coming with us'?" Angelina repeated.  
  
"I booked us a room at The Boddington," Fred said. "A luxury suite."  
  
"You're mad," she said. "I can't go to Hogsmeade." She stepped out of the shower and picked up her towel.  
  
"Allow me," said Fred, taking the towel from her. She rolled her eyes but smiled, and he eagerly began to towel her off.  
  
"My god, you're beautiful," he said appreciatively, as he rubbed the towel over her back.  
  
"Fred," she said, "focus. Tell me how it is you think I can get off school grounds to go to Hogsmeade with you."  
  
"It's a surprise," said Fred.  
  
"Fred," said Angelina doubtfully, and he reluctantly stopped drying her as she picked up a pair of knickers and slid them on.  
  
"Angie, please," he said, hoping he didn't sound pathetic. "I missed you and I didn't want to come all the way here just to watch you play and have a quickie in the shower. Although that was really smashing, mind."  
  
She smiled as she put on her bra and pulled on a jumper. "So you have this whole romantic evening planned, is that it?"  
  
"Yeah," said Fred. "Well, sort of. I mean, I have to sneak you off the grounds and make sure you're not seen in Hogsmeade, but..."  
  
"How do you intend to make sure I'm not seen in Hogsmeade?" said Angelina, pulling on a pair of jeans. She shook her hair, picked up her wand, and quickly dried it; her hair fell in soft waves and Fred decided he liked this much better than the braids.  
  
"You'll see," he said, pulling her close. "Come on, Angie. Break some rules with me. I won't get another chance to see you, not until school's over. Stay with me tonight and you can get back to school tomorrow and nobody will know you were gone."  
  
"It sounds risky," she said doubtfully.  
  
"Risk is my middle name, love," he said, grinning.  
  
"You're impossible," she said, shaking her head. "Shit. Yeah. Of course I'll come with you, you prat. Just let me perform a good Contraceptive Spell first, okay?"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Dear god, I have never had anything this rank-smelling so close to my nostrils in my life," said Angelina in a whisper, as she and Alicia followed Fred and George under the cloak up the stairs of The Boddington Inn.  
  
Getting the girls out of the locker room had been a comical tangle of limbs; all four of them, along with Angelina and Alicia's brooms, had squeezed under the cloak in order to reach Fred and George's brooms. Once they were well past the Quidditch pitch and slightly inside the Forbidden Forest, the four of them had flown off, the Invisibility Cloak stuffed inside Fred's robes.  
  
They landed a few minutes later in a deserted alleyway in Hogsmeade, whereupon Fred instructed Angelina and Alicia to put on the cloak again before returning to the hotel.  
  
"Almost there," said Fred, as they reached the fourth floor landing. So far, so good.  
  
Fred looked up and down the corridor, found it empty, and hissed, "Let's go."  
  
He lead the seemingly invisible girls toward the rooms he and George had rented, with George bringing up the rear. Fred pulled the brass key from the pocket of his robes and opened the door to his room, and George followed suit.  
  
"You can take the cloak off now," Fred whispered.  
  
"Thank god," said Angelina and Alicia together, and they yanked the stinky cloak off themselves. They were both carrying their brooms.  
  
"Good night, Fred, Angelina," said George, taking Alicia's hand and giving her a gentle pull into his room. She giggled and went inside and George shut the door firmly behind him.  
  
"Young love," said Fred, grinning. "Get in here, you." He pulled a smiling Angelina inside the room, picked up the cloak tossed it into the closet, and shut the door to the bedroom firmly behind him.  
  
"Wow," said Angelina. "This is posh."  
  
"Only the best for you," said Fred, sweeping his arms in a grand gesture.  
  
"That's some bed," said Angelina, grinning.  
  
"Naturally," said Fred. "If we want to make up for lost time and all..."  
  
"Mmm, that sounds very nice," said Angelina. He kissed her lightly on the mouth, then deeper. Slow, intoxicating kisses that sent shivers down his spine.  
  
"I have something for you," he whispered.  
  
"Something else aside from this palace?" said Angelina.  
  
Fred grinned, kissed the tip of her nose--he loved doing that--and fetched the letters he'd written her. All two dozen of them; they were tied with a large gold ribbon.  
  
"What's this?" she said.  
  
"Letters I wrote, to you," he said, flushing a bit. "I couldn't send them. Well, you know."  
  
She smiled. "What's in them?"  
  
"All sorts of stuff," said Fred.  
  
"Mushy stuff?" said Angelina.  
  
"I'm afraid so."  
  
"Funny stuff?" she said.  
  
"Naturally."  
  
She grinned. "Naughty stuff?"  
  
"Definitely."  
  
She laughed. "I love all of them already. They'll keep me warm at night when you're not here."  
  
"I got your letter," said Fred.  
  
"You did?"  
  
"Yeah," he said. "It was bloody great. I read it, I dunno, six hundred times."  
  
"And just think, I fulfilled that whole dragging you into the shower bit, to boot," said Angelina.  
  
"Yeah, you did, didn't you?" said Fred, taking her hands.  
  
"So...that means my dad must have sent it to you," said Angelina.  
  
"Right," said Fred. "Uh, actually, he sort of...brought it to me. In person."  
  
"What?" said Angelina, with a horrified look on her face.  
  
"Yeah," said Fred.  
  
She pulled away from him and put her head in her hands. "Shit. Did he do his Concerned Father routine?"  
  
"Yeah," said Fred. "I have to admit I did fear for my life at one point. But, uh, it was fine. I mean, once I stopped being terrified of him he was really nice."  
  
"He doesn't mean anything by it," said Angelina. "He's just protective. I'm the oldest, only daughter, that sort of thing."  
  
"Hey, I have a baby sister, remember?" said Fred. "I, uh, sort of told him about us. I mean, that we're, well, together."  
  
"You did not," said Angelina.  
  
"I did," said Fred. "He took it well, actually."  
  
Angelina sat down heavily on the bed. "My god. The world is upside down today."  
  
"What do you mean?" He sat next to her.  
  
"I woke up this morning certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that we'd lose the Quidditch match," she said. "And certain that I wouldn't see you until the end of term. And instead we win the match and the Cup and...and you're here and...now I find out you met my dad and he's cool with us being together and..."  
  
Her voice trailed off and Fred saw her eyes fill with tears.  
  
"Hey," he said, pulling her close. "What's this?"  
  
"It's just a lot to deal with," she whispered, clinging to him. "I mean, it's all good. All of it. I can't believe you're here. I can't believe you flew from bloody London to watch me play in a Quidditch match. You must have been numb from the waist down."  
  
"I was," Fred admitted, "but seeing you naked cleared that right up."  
  
She laughed. So did he.  
  
"I'm hungry," she said, wiping a tear from her eye.  
  
"Ah," said Fred. "How do you feel about room service?"  
  
"I love room service," said Angelina.  
  
"Excellent," said Fred. "Let's stuff our faces."  
  
"Great idea," said Angelina. "And afterward we'll shag until we pass out."  
  
"That's brilliant," said Fred happily. "I was just thinking of that very same thing."  
  
"Great minds think alike."  
  
He felt a giddy, crazy sort of happiness sweep into him.  
  
"My god, I love you," he said.  
  
"I love you, too," she said, smiling warmly at him. "Now call for room service before I die of starvation."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Fred would be broke before the weekend was over, but he didn't care. Throwing money away hand over fist didn't matter to him that night. He had grown up poor, had never known what luxury was. He wanted to savor the whole experience. He bought a sumptuous room service dinner for two, and they ate everything in sight. After a half hour of innocent cuddling and letting their food settle, they slowly undressed each other and spent the whole of the night making love, holding one another, talking in the darkness. Fred couldn't get enough. He had never really believed in the whole notion that anybody could be "destined" or "made" to be with someone else, but now, lying next to her, naked and holding her close to him, he believed he and Angelina were made for one another.  
  
It simply had to be true, he thought. He had never wanted anyone like he wanted her. She was a part of him, as if she'd burned into his flesh, his soul. It frightened him and thrilled him and he didn't want to think about the morning, when she would leave him, put the Invisibility Cloak over herself and Alicia and the two of them would go back to the castle and Fred would have to wait another month to feel Angelina beneath him, her lips on his, her taste in his mouth, her hands on his skin. A whole month of not talking to her, hearing her laugh at his jokes--both good and bad--falling into their old habit of flirting that had always made him feel so good.  
  
They didn't sleep at all that night. Fred told her everything, she told him everything, and in between they came together in passion that was alternately slow and tender, or rough and desperate. He counted the very minutes that went by, hoping that by doing so, he could slow down time, keep morning at bay. Their time together, that was the real luxury, Fred decided. Better than fancy hotel rooms and fancy dinners.  
  
But morning came, and Angelina kissed him one last time, hugged him one last time, and with tears in her eyes and his letters and her broom in her hands she disappeared under the Invisibility Cloak with Alicia, and went back to Hogwarts. They would hide the cloak in their dorm room. George and Fred stared at the space where the girls had just been.  
  
"Alicia told me she's going to wash that cloak," said George. "Good thing, too, it smelled like something died in it."  
  
Fred smiled and looked at his twin.  
  
"Good night?" he asked, but there was no ribbing in his tone, none of the usual joking.  
  
"The best," said George. "You?"  
  
"The best," said Fred.  
  
"I'm exhausted," said George.  
  
"Me, too," said Fred.  
  
"Long flight back," said George.  
  
"Unfortunately," said Fred.  
  
"I don't...really feel like staying, though," said George. "I mean, if I can't...see her."  
  
"Yeah," said Fred. "Let's get out of here, right? Back to London."  
  
"Good idea," said George, finding his usual bracing tone. "But first, coffee. Lots of it."  
  
________________________________________________________________________  
  
A/N: First things first: a HUGE thank you to all the readers who contacted FictionAlley.net about the plagiarism of "A Very Thin Line." By all appearances the story has been removed and as far as I can tell, so has the offending plagiarizer's account, and it's because of all of you that this happened--there are too many people to thank individually, but thanks, a million times. It means the world to me to have your support.  
  
Second: This story is NOT over. I have big plans for Fred and Angie. 


	22. Chapter Twenty Two: The New Members of t...

Chapter Twenty-Two: The New Members of the Order  
  
"Yes!" said Fred triumphantly.  
  
"Excellent," said George.  
  
"Twin, I think we've finally got it," said Fred, staring down at the hastily scrawled message, in vivid blue ink, on the piece of parchment he was holding. Three weeks had passed since Fred and George had visited Hogwarts. The visit had exhausted them and depleted a good bit of their earnings, but it had also spurred in them both a manic sort of creative energy, which they focused on the product they knew would make them rich.  
  
Now they sat in the study in their flat, gazing at their latest triumph.  
  
"Weasley's Wily Writer," said George, grinning. "We could make a fortune."  
  
Fred stared in wonder at their latest achievement. An invisible ink that was impervious to every charm and spell they could think of. More than this, they had invented a "decoy" ink. The writer of a secret message could write the message in the invisible ink, vanish it, then write an innocuous message in decoy ink. Nobody but the recipient could read the hidden message; the recipient merely had to tap the message with a wand for the decoy ink to vanish and the real message to appear.  
  
"We'll sell it as a set," said George. "The invisible ink and the decoy ink."  
  
"We'll have to test it," said Fred. "You know, it's times like these I'm glad we have such a huge family."  
  
George chuckled, then yawned and stretched.  
  
"I'm dog tired," he said. "Let's clean this stuff up and get back to it tomorrow, yeah?"  
  
Fred yawned as well. "Good idea."  
  
They both stood.  
  
"We'd recoup our losses from that Hogsmeade weekend in a day with this stuff," said George. "Not that I'm going to ever complain again about you blowing all those Galleons on that trip."  
  
"I should think not," said Fred archly.  
  
"Shagging does make for mental clarity, doesn't it?" said George. "Gets the old creative gears ticking."  
  
"When Angie and Alicia get back," said Fred, "my god, we'll come up with so much great stuff--"  
  
"We'll be millionaires in a month," said George happily. "Well, good night, Twin."  
  
"G'night," said Fred. He started toward his bedroom when suddenly a loud crack! penetrated the air.  
  
"What the--" George began.  
  
The sound came from the living room; the twins pulled out their wands and burst into the living room to see their mother in the middle of the room. Her face was streaked with tears.  
  
"Mum!" said Fred, and he and George were at her side in an instant, towering over her and gazing at her with concern. "What happened? What's wrong?"  
  
"Ron," said Mrs. Weasley tearfully, "and Ginny. And--Harry and Hermione."  
  
Fred's stomach plummeted.  
  
"What about them?" he said, his throat constricting.  
  
"They were hurt," she sniffed. "They--they went to the Ministry and--and-- Sirius--You-Know-Who was there--Death Eaters--"  
  
She was making no sense but everything she said sounded horrible.  
  
"Mum," said George, his voice shaking. "Slow down. Here, sit. Tell us what happened."  
  
Mrs. Weasley sank gratefully onto the sofa and the twins sat on either side of her.  
  
"They went to the Ministry," she began.  
  
"Ron and the rest," said Fred, feeling sick.  
  
She nodded. "They--they were going to rescue Sirius Black."  
  
"Sirius?" said George, his face screwing up in confusion. "Sirius Black got taken or something?"  
  
"N-no," said Mrs. Weasley, dabbing at her eyes with a soaked handkerchief. "That's just it. Sirius didn't get captured at all. It was a trick. A trap. Vol--You-Know-Who tricked Harry and made him thick he'd t-taken Sirius. Harry'd been having all these visions. You know that, he had that one about Arthur. Harry thought You-Know-Who had Sirius, so Harry went after--after-- "  
  
"Harry went after You-Know-Who," said Fred, horrified. "My god. And he dragged Ron and Ginny with him?"  
  
"What the bloody hell was he thinking?" said George angrily.  
  
"George," said Mrs. Weasley desperately, "don't be angry with Harry. You don't know what happened."  
  
"Bugger that!" said George furiously. "Mum, I like the kid but dammit, he pulled Ron and Ginny into this--"  
  
"George!" Mrs. Weasley snapped, her tearful voice shifting into her usual harsh, scolding tone. George shut up.  
  
"Mum, what happened?" Fred asked gently.  
  
"They went to the Ministry," Mrs. Weasley said. "They thought they'd get Sirius out and get out of there, but it was a trap. Death Eaters were there, they attacked--"  
  
"My god," said George, his voice strangled.  
  
"They're okay," said Mrs. Weasley in a rush. "They're going to be okay. Ginny broke her ankle and Ron--Ron was hurt, I don't know exactly what happened to him but he has burns on his arms and--and he was unconscious when they found him but he'll be all right."  
  
Fred sank weakly against the sofa. "Jesus," he muttered.  
  
"Hermione," said Mrs. Weasley, her voice going teary again. "Poor girl, she- -she almost died. And Neville--"  
  
"Whoa," said George, "NEVILLE was there? As in Neville Longbottom?"  
  
Mrs. Weasley nodded. "He went with them, too. His nose was broken but he didn't get hurt otherwise."  
  
"And Harry?" said Fred.  
  
"Unhurt," said Mrs. Weasley. "Physically unhurt."  
  
"What do you--" George began.  
  
"Sirius Black is dead," said Mrs. Weasley, her voice now flat and hard. As if this was the only way she could get the news out.  
  
"Black?" said Fred. "D-dead?"  
  
Mrs. Weasley began to weep softly.  
  
"How?"  
  
Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "I don't know what happened, except that he died in battle. He--he turned up at the Ministry with some other Aurors, and Remus, and they--they fought with the Death Eaters, and Sirius--was killed."  
  
Fred felt his body go limp, and his head, which felt very heavy all of a sudden, flopped forward into his hands.  
  
Sirius Black was dead. Harry's godfather. The only father figure in the kid's life was dead.  
  
"Shit," Fred said, as a lump rose in his throat and threatened to strangle him. "Mum."  
  
"Where's Harry now?" said George slowly.  
  
"Back at school," said Mrs. Weasley. "They're all back at school. It happened last night. Ron and Hermione are in hospital; Madam Pomfrey's taking good care of them."  
  
George shook his head. "Poor kid," he said. "Harry, I mean."  
  
"He'll need us, George," said Mrs. Weasley. "I know it was wrong of him to go there, he shouldn't have involved Ron and Ginny, but he'll need us. And you know how Ron is; he would have followed Harry anyway."  
  
Fred vaguely heard George and their mother talking, but his mind was racing, his heart hurting. Although the last time he'd seen Sirius, they'd parted on friendly enough terms, Fred couldn't help but remember that awful night when Mr. Weasley had been attacked, and Fred and his siblings had been yanked out of bed and sent via Portkey to Order headquarters. When they had tried to go to St. Mungo's to visit their father and Sirius had stopped them, told them they couldn't risk the Order's plans, that the cause of the Order was bigger than all of them, that some things were worth dying for. Fred had lashed out, practically called Sirius a coward, had done it in a moment of fury but with enough comprehension that he knew the words would bite Sirius where they hurt him most. Sirius had looked at Fred like he wanted to hit him, but he hadn't.  
  
Fred now wished he had.  
  
"The only good part of this whole mess," Mrs. Weasley was saying, "is that most of the Death Eaters were caught. And Fudge is finally admitting that You-Know-Who is back, and Dumbledore is back at Hogwarts. Umbridge is out, too."  
  
"When can we see Ron and Ginny?" said George.  
  
"When they come home next week," said Mrs. Weasley firmly.  
  
"Mum--" George began.  
  
"No, George," said Mrs. Weasley. "Dumbledore has enough on his plate dealing with getting the school back in order and Ron needs his rest."  
  
Fred looked at his mother, who seemed to have stopped crying and looked surprising businesslike all of a sudden. She stood up.  
  
"I'm off," she announced.  
  
"Where?" Fred said.  
  
"A meeting with the Order," said Mrs. Weasley briskly. "I'll get in touch-- "  
  
"We're coming," Fred said abruptly.  
  
"What?" said Mrs. Weasley.  
  
"What?" said George.  
  
"We're coming," Fred repeated. "Right now."  
  
"Fred, it's for members only," said Mrs. Weasley.  
  
"So make us members," said Fred. "We're old enough, we're not in school anymore. We qualify."  
  
"Fred--"  
  
"I mean it, Mum," said Fred. "You're always nagging us to do something useful. Well, we want to be in the Order and do something useful."  
  
"Uh, yeah," said George, gaping at his twin but clearly going along with it.  
  
"Fred, it's not that simple--"  
  
"I don't care, Mum!" said Fred. "Bloody hell, our brother and sister almost got killed by Death Eaters. We can't do nothing. We can help. We're going."  
  
Mrs. Weasley started to protest, but now both of her sons were standing and looking down at her with stubborn expressions. She sighed.  
  
"Fine," she said. "Let's go."  
  
"Right," said Fred. "Uh, just let me get something first."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
CRACK! Fred opened his eyes and he was in the front foyer of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. The velvet curtains were drawn over the portraits of Sirius's family members; the corridor was as dim and dreary as ever, but now the pall was even more pronounced. Sirius was dead.  
  
"All right then," said Mrs. Weasley. "You two wait here for a minute. I have to check with Remus and Arthur. I'll come and fetch you soon."  
  
"Mum," said Fred warningly, "if we don't see you again in five minutes we're coming down."  
  
Mrs. Weasley threw up her hands and headed downstairs to the basement kitchen, leaving Fred and George alone in the foyer.  
  
"Do you plan to do a product demonstration, then?" George hissed, as Fred pulled the small box of Weasley's Wily Writer materials from his robes.  
  
"Yup," said Fred. "Here's our chance, Twin. To be useful."  
  
"If the Order even lets us in," said George. "How much should we charge for that stuff?"  
  
"Nothing," Fred said at once.  
  
"Nothing?" said George. "You're not serious."  
  
"I'm totally serious," Fred whispered.  
  
George gave Fred a long look, and seemed to understand.  
  
"All right," he said slowly. "We don't charge for it. We donate it for the cause, and make up the overhead with sales to the public."  
  
"I don't want to sell it to the public," said Fred.  
  
"What are you on about?" said George, now looking thoroughly exasperated. "How are we supposed to afford making this stuff if we don't sell it to the public?"  
  
"We sell it to the public and anyone can buy it," said Fred. "Including You- Know-Who's followers. Why give them an advantage? This way the Order has it and they're the only ones that know about it. And if you're worried about profits, we take in plenty from our other stuff."  
  
There was a long silence as George studied his twin.  
  
"When did you decide this?" said George.  
  
"Just now. When I heard about Sirius," said Fred.  
  
Their eyes met, and George, again, understood. The curse and blessing of being a twin. Some things simply didn't need to be said.  
  
"All right," said George. "As of now all future Weasley's Wily Writers go to members of the Order. Free of charge. Now shake my hand and make it official."  
  
Fred took George's right hand in his and shook it vigorously. "Agreed," he said.  
  
"Fred, George."  
  
They turned to see their mother at the top of the stairs leading to the kitchen.  
  
"Mum?" said Fred nervously.  
  
"The meeting's about to start," she said. "Come with me. You'll want seats." 


	23. Chapter Twenty Three: Return

A/N: Some of the dialogue here belongs to J.K. Rowling. And of course I don't own anything else, either. Etc., etc.  
  
Chapter Twenty Three: Return  
  
"Here's your parcel, miss, and your change," said George brightly, handing the pretty blonde witch her purchase. "Thanks for stopping by and do come again." He flashed her a charming Weasley grin and she smiled back.  
  
"Thanks," she said, or rather, purred, and she glided gracefully out of the shop.  
  
"Don't let Alicia see you doing that," said Fred, grinning, as he emerged from the back office.  
  
"Hey, a flash of the old Weasley charm for appreciative customers means they come back and spend more money," said George, as opened the till and removed the piles of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts inside. He poured them into a leather satchel; they would count the money later that night and tomorrow morning George would go to Gringott's to make the weekly deposit.  
  
"Yeah, well, we need to close up now," said Fred. "King's Cross at half past five, remember?"  
  
"Of course," said George, and he pushed past Fred to go to the back office. "As if I'd miss the chance to meet and greet our brave little brother and sister and my lovely girlfriend."  
  
Fred smiled to himself. In less than an hour he'd see Angelina again. He'd written her several times in the last week, to make up for the weeks of being unable to; now that Dumbledore was reinstated as Headmaster there was no fear of his letters going astray. She had written back, and reading her funny, sexy letters had made the ache of missing her lessen a bit. He hadn't been able to go to her graduation, either; producing a steady supply of Weasley's Wily Writers for the Order had kept him and George very busy. But Angelina had mentioned in her last letter that she felt she had done well on her N.E.W.Ts, something she attributed to their "decadent evening" after the Quidditch final.  
  
Fred joined George in the back office and opened the coat closet, pulling out his latest clothing purchase: a rather flashy but stylish dragon skin jacket.  
  
"That one's mine," said George.  
  
"You're right," said Fred, handing George the jacket and fetching its twin from the closet.  
  
They slid the jackets on.  
  
"Looking good, Twin," said George.  
  
"You, too," said Fred, grinning. "It's like--like looking in a MIRROR."  
  
"Ha ha," said George, punching Fred lightly in the arm.  
  
Fred ran a hand through his hair and checked his face; he really should shave but there wasn't time. His two-day-old scruff, his slightly mussed hair and his clothing--the jacket, his fitted black t-shirt and his jeans and boots--gave him a decidedly rock star look. He hoped Angelina would like it. He hoped her parents wouldn't think he looked like a delinquent.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Coming, Mum!" Fred called, and he headed out of the back office into the shop itself, followed closely by George, to see their parents waiting for them.  
  
"Dear god, what ARE you wearing?" said Mrs. Weasley, as she noted their matching dragon skin jackets.  
  
"Dragon skin," said George loftily. "The latest in hip men's fashion."  
  
"Oh, really," said Mrs. Weasley, shaking her head. "Arthur, this is Bill's influence."  
  
"Molly, dear, they are--"  
  
"--of age," Mrs. Weasley finished. "Yes, everyone keeps telling me that. Well, I suppose that means I can safely deny responsibility for my sons dressing up like a circus act. Let's go."  
  
She turned on her heel and headed out of the shop. Mr. Weasley turned to his sons and grinned sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders, then followed his wife.  
  
"Don't think she likes the dragon skin, bro," said George.  
  
"I'd worry about her if she did," said Fred.  
  
"You have a point."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Dear lord, look at us," said Mrs. Weasley fretfully. "Between the twins and Tonks' pink hair and Alastor's outfit--"  
  
"Just more of the circus act, Mum," said Fred brightly. They had arrived at King's Cross to discover that Lupin, Tonks and Mad-Eye Moody had arrived as well. Moody informed the twins in gruff tones that they were all there to give Harry's relatives a "talking to."  
  
Fred thought this was well overdue. He'd only met Harry's relatives once, but it was enough for him to know that they were absolute prats.  
  
Just then Fred saw the first trickle of students appear between the barrier to Platform 9¾. Mrs. Weasley gave a little squeak and rushed forward as Ron, Ginny, Harry and Hermione came, one by one, through the barrier. She crushed Ron, Ginny and Harry in her usual bone-crunching embraces before releasing them; they and Hermione walked slowly toward the twins, Mr. Weasley, Moody, Lupin and Tonks. All of them looked surprised, but none so much as Harry. Fred met his eyes and gave him a quick wink.  
  
"What are they supposed to be?" said Ron, pointing to his brothers' jackets.  
  
"Finest dragon skin, little bro," said Fred jovially. "Business is booming and we thought we'd treat ourselves." He clapped Ron on the back and hugged Ginny tightly; George followed suit.  
  
"Hiya, Harry," said George, shaking Harry's hand; Fred did the same.  
  
"Hi," said Harry. He looked bewildered, exhausted, sad, but also a bit heartened to see everyone else. "I didn't expect...what are you all doing here?"  
  
"Well," said Lupin, "we thought we might have a little chat with your aunt and uncle before letting them take you home."  
  
Harry looked apprehensive when he said, "I dunno if that's a good idea."  
  
"Oh, I think it is," said Moody, in a growl. He pointed over his shoulder. "That'll be them, will it, Potter?"  
  
Fred turned round to see Harry's relatives, who had appeared on the platform and were gazing at the group of wizards and witches with a mixture of horror and contempt.  
  
"Ah, Harry!" said Mr. Weasley. "Well--shall we do it, then, Alastor?"  
  
"Yeah, I reckon so, Arthur," said Moody. And with that Moody and Mr. Weasley headed directly toward the Dursleys, followed closely by Tonks and Lupin, then Mrs. Weasley and the twins, and finally, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny.  
  
"Good afternoon," said Mr. Weasley. "You might remember me, my name's Arthur Weasley."  
  
Mr. Dursley gave Mr. Weasley a look of deep disgust. Fred glanced at Dursley's skinny, horse-faced wife and his massive son. The son was no longer fat but hugely muscular, with almost no neck and shoulders like a boulder. The son could have taken out half the group with his bare hands, but he was standing behind his mother and his lip was trembling just slightly. Fred met his eyes and gave him a smug wink, then stuck out his tongue and pointed to it; he heard George snigger. The boy's eyes widened in horror and he shrank further behind his mother, as if trying to become smaller.  
  
"We thought we'd just have a few words with you about Harry," Mr. Weasley was saying.  
  
"Yeah," Moody snarled, "about how he's treated when he's at your place."  
  
"I am not aware that it is any of your business what goes on in my house--" Dursley began hotly.  
  
"I expect what you're not aware of would fill several books, Dursley," Moody rasped.  
  
Fred bit back a laugh and his mother swatted his arm.  
  
"Anyway, that's not the point," said Tonks. "The point is, if we find out you've been horrible to Harry--"  
  
"--and make no mistake, we'll hear about it," said Lupin.  
  
"Yes," said Mr. Weasley, "even if you won't let Harry use the fellytone--"  
  
"Telephone," murmured Hermione under her breath.  
  
"Yeah, if we get any hint that Potter's been mistreated in any way, you'll have us to answer to," finished Moody.  
  
"Are you threatening me, sir?" said Dursley in a loud voice. George had begun to make kissy faces at the Dursley's son; he was whimpering silently behind his mother.  
  
"Yes," said Moody.  
  
"Do I look like the sort of man who can be intimidated?" said Dursley.  
  
Moody pushed back his bowler hat, to reveal his spooky magical eye, and Dursley yelped and leapt backward.  
  
"Yes, I'd have to say you do, Dursley," said Moody.  
  
Fred watched as everyone took their turns saying goodbye to Harry. He felt incredibly sorry for the kid, having to spend even a moment in the company of those Muggles, but at least Harry had Fred's family, Lupin, Tonks and Moody (and a whole lot of other people) on his side now, backing him up.  
  
He shook Harry's hand and watched for a moment as The Boy Who Lived headed out of the station, his relatives following him. Nobody said anything for a moment. Then Moody nodded to everyone and started off. Fred noticed Tonks and Lupin walking closely together out of the station.  
  
"Let's go home, shall we?" said Mrs. Weasley, her arm round Ginny.  
  
"Yeah," said Ron, "I'm starving."  
  
"You go on ahead," said Fred, his eyes already scanning the crowd as more students trickled through the barrier.  
  
"Yeah," said George. "We're just waiting for--"  
  
"Their girlfriends," said Ginny.  
  
"Ah," said Mr. Weasley. "Of course. Uh, boys, you'll join us for dinner?"  
  
"You bet, Dad," said Fred, grinning.  
  
"Don't be too long," said Mrs. Weasley, and she was already leading Ron and Ginny away. Mr. Weasley waved and they were off, and Fred and George were left to search the crowds.  
  
"Found my girl," said George, and he jogged off in the direction of Alicia.  
  
Fred's eyes returned to scanning the crowd. Where the hell was she?  
  
And then he saw a tall, broad shouldered wizard come through the barrier; he had graying hair and beard and coffee skin and had an arm around a beautiful young woman who could only be his daughter.  
  
Angelina.  
  
Fred's feet froze in place. He wanted to run to her, crush her in a hug, but he didn't want to intrude on her family. He noticed the woman next, who had to be her mother; her hair was short and neatly styled and she was very pretty and elegantly dressed. They were admiring the framed diploma in her hand. She turned just a little then, and saw Fred.  
  
She smiled, and Fred was suddenly reminded of the day they met, at the Sorting, all those years ago, when she'd been gangly and awkward and had cornrows with beads on the ends, how she'd giggled at him because his stomach was growling, how he'd wanted to pull her hair but didn't.  
  
He was vaguely aware of his feet moving, and that she was coming toward him. They met halfway and Fred suddenly didn't care that her parents were watching them; he pulled her into his arms and held her as if he never meant to let go of her.  
  
"Angie," he whispered.  
  
"You're here," she said, her voice muffled as she spoke against his neck.  
  
"Of course," he said, smiling against her hair. "Your first letter insisted I be here, remember? So here I am."  
  
She pulled back from him. "It's good to see you," she said.  
  
"Congratulations, graduate," said Fred, chucking her affectionately on the chin.  
  
"God, don't remind me," said Angelina, grinning. "Now I have to go and get a job like you."  
  
"It's not so bad, this 'real world' stuff," said Fred.  
  
"Angelina, aren't you going to introduce us?"  
  
Mr. Johnson and his wife were suddenly a few feet behind their daughter; both of them smiled at Fred, but Fred's stomach began to dance nervously all the same.  
  
"Oh," she said, disengaging herself from Fred's arms. "Uh, Mum, this is Fred Weasley. Fred, this is my mum, Nadine Johnson."  
  
"How do you do, Fred," said Mrs. Johnson, holding out an elegantly manicured hand.  
  
"How do you do, Mrs. Johnson," said Fred, his voice feeling a bit strangled.  
  
"You know my dad, of course," said Angelina, rolling her eyes at her father.  
  
"Yeah, we've met," said Fred. "How do you do, sir?"  
  
"Just fine, Fred," said Mr. Johnson, as they shook hands.  
  
"We've heard so much about you from Angelina," said Mrs. Johnson warmly.  
  
"All bad, I'll bet," Fred blurted, then mentally kicked himself. This was hardly the time to act like his usual self.  
  
"Sense of humor," said Mr. Johnson. "I knew there was a reason I liked you, Fred."  
  
"Oh," said Fred, a bit overwhelmed. "Uh, thank you, sir."  
  
"Business going well?" said Mr. Johnson.  
  
"Very well, sir," said Fred, unable to hide the pride in his voice.  
  
"Nice jacket," said Mr. Johnson, grinning.  
  
"Oh, yeah," said Fred, blushing a bit. "Thanks."  
  
"Fred, you really must come over for dinner sometime," said Mrs. Johnson. "So we can get to know you better."  
  
"I'd enjoy that," said Fred, and he meant it. Even if it did mean he'd have to be on his best behavior.  
  
"Angelina, we'll...wait for you upstairs?" said Mr. Johnson, and he winked at both of them.  
  
"Okay, Dad," said Angelina.  
  
Her parents headed off and Fred was alone with her. Not really alone, as they were on a train platform. But alone all the same.  
  
"My god, Fred," said Angelina. "What ARE you wearing?"  
  
"You don't like it?" said Fred.  
  
"I do," said Angelina, running her hand along the scaly sleeve of the jacket. "I think it's quite...sexy, actually."  
  
"Really?" said Fred, grinning, taking her hands in his.  
  
"Yeah," said Angelina, arching her eyebrows. "You know, there was another part of my first letter that you haven't done yet."  
  
"Oh, right," said Fred. "The part where I kiss you until you can't breathe." He put his arms round her waist.  
  
"That part," said Angelina, pulling him closer to her. "But if you don't want to kiss me in public--"  
  
He silenced her with his lips. They kissed slowly, tenderly, on the train platform, for a long time, not hearing the sounds around them, not aware of anything at all, until an annoyed porter shouted at them to get a room. They broke apart and laughed.  
  
"I really should get going," said Angelina reluctantly. She held his hands in hers.  
  
"Me, too," he said. "I love you."  
  
"I love you, too."  
  
"Have dinner with me tomorrow night? At my flat? Seven o'clock?"  
  
"I'll be there," she murmured, and she kissed him one last time before she headed toward the escalator. Fred watched her go, in a bit of a daze, wishing they could be together right now instead of having to wait until tomorrow.  
  
"Hey," said George. Fred turned.  
  
"Alicia left?" said Fred.  
  
"Yeah, you know having dinner with her parents," said George. "Just like us, in fact."  
  
"Right," said Fred. "Guess we'd better get over there and see if Mum needs any help with anything."  
  
"If you're planning on cooking we should bring antidote," said George.  
  
"Piss off," said Fred, punching him in the arm.  
  
"Ow," said George, throwing his own punch at Fred's arm. "That hurt, you sod."  
  
"Ow," said Fred, returning a punch. "Prat!"  
  
"Tosser," said George, swatting Fred on the back of the head.  
  
"Oi! Twins!"  
  
They turned and saw Lee Jordan jogging toward them; his presence was probably a good thing, considering that Fred and George had been about to descend into another of their wrestling matches.  
  
"Lee, we were wondering what happened to you," said Fred.  
  
"Oh, you know, just saying 'bye to Katie," said Lee, grinning. "So, you still have room for me at the shop?"  
  
"Are you kidding?" said George. "You start tomorrow."  
  
"What about space in your flat?" said Lee eagerly.  
  
"Oh," said Fred. "Well, the third bedroom is an office right now but I s'pose we could turn it into your room."  
  
"Gee, thanks," said Lee. "Don't put yourselves out on our account."  
  
"Just kidding, Lee," said George. "Of course you're living with us. We'll have the Hottest Bachelor Shag Pad in London."  
  
"Minus the bachelor part," Fred pointed out.  
  
"Oh yeah," said George. "Well, okay, the hottest Monogamous Boyfriend Shag Pad in London. That better?"  
  
"Excellent," said Lee, still grinning. "Feels weird. Being out. You two like it?"  
  
"Love it," said Fred.  
  
"Best thing ever," said George.  
  
"Yeah, I'm thinking it won't be so bad," said Lee. "Making our own rules."  
  
"Just as long as we break them regularly," said Fred.  
  
"Naturally," said Lee. "I missed you two gits."  
  
"Aw, that's so sweet," said George.  
  
"Piss off," said Lee, punching both of them in the shoulders. "Listen, I'm off. Dinner with the parental units. I'll be at the shop tomorrow morning, yeah?"  
  
"Looking forward to it," said Fred, and he chuckled as his best mate hurried off to meet up with his parents.  
  
"We've come a long way, haven't we, Twin?" said George. Fred looked at his twin and felt, at that moment, that all was right with the world.  
  
"Yeah," said Fred, grinning. "Sometimes we amaze ourselves." 


	24. Epilogue: Two Years Later

EPILOGUE: Two Years Later  
  
"Shit, George, where is it?!" Fred yelled desperately, and he began tearing cushions off the sofa, looking beneath furniture, upending what he could.  
  
"Would you stop ripping up our flat?" Lee yelled. "It's right here, you idiot."  
  
"Where?" said Fred, leaping up from the floor, where he'd been down on all fours searching for the missing item under a chair.  
  
"Here," said Lee, holding up the small velvet box.  
  
"Thank god," said Fred, crossing to the kitchen and taking the box from Lee.  
  
"Nervous, are you?" said George, entering the living room. "Jesus, Fred, this place is a disaster."  
  
"Yeah, I'm nervous!" said Fred defensively. "We are talking eternity here, you know."  
  
"For god's sake," said Lee. "Look, Fred, she's going to say yes, okay? You've got this one in the bag. What are you going mad about?"  
  
"I'm not going mad," Fred mumbled. "I'm just...agitated."  
  
"Yes, and the evidence of your agitation is shown by the disaster you've made out of our living room," George said dryly. "You know, Fred, it's not THAT hard to do."  
  
"Says the man who's already done it," said Lee. "God. Everyone's getting so bloody domestic on me."  
  
"I'm not domestic yet," said George defensively. "I have three more months before I take the plunge. And the sooner the better. Alicia's driving me mad with all this planning crap."  
  
"Pretty soon I'll be all alone in this place," said Lee, pouting.  
  
"What are you complaining about?" said George. "You'll have the place all to yourself. You can bring Lavender up here any time you want. You can shag on the kitchen table and not worry about anyone walking in on you."  
  
"True," said Lee, grinning. "I'll say this for Miss Brown. She saved my life."  
  
"Your sex life, you mean," said George.  
  
"Dammit, George, help me with my tie," Fred snapped, as he stood in front of the mirror and fumbled with the ends of the tie.  
  
"Jesus, Fred, you STILL haven't learned to do a tie up proper?" said George, rolling his eyes. "Seven years at Hogwarts and he's still hopeless. Come here. For god's sake."  
  
"I can do it with my wand," said Fred, annoyed.  
  
"So, Lee," George went on, as he deftly tied Fred's tie, "are you and Lavender getting serious?"  
  
"You know, I think we might be," said Lee. "She's a lot deeper than most people think."  
  
"I'll bet," said Fred with a snort. He realized he had only one shoe on and began to search for the mate.  
  
"Hey, don't impugn my girl!" said Lee. "If it weren't for her I'd be holed up in a monastery somewhere, tossing off every five minutes. As it is we have quite a lovely relationship, thank you, based on mutual trust, respect and understanding. And plenty of smashing good sex."  
  
"You always did have a thing for blondes," said George.  
  
"Shit, where's my other shoe?" said Fred, and he began to toss cushions again.  
  
"Right by the door, you dirty great moron," said Lee, putting his head in his hands.  
  
"Right," said Fred.  
  
"So you're over Katie, then?" said George, shaking his head as Fred struggled to put on his shoe. Fred shot him a dirty look.  
  
"I think so, yeah," said Lee. "I saw Oliver Wood the other day at Fortescue's and I didn't even feel like punching him. I took that as a good sign."  
  
"Fred, do you need me to tie your shoe now?" said George, watching with amusement as Fred tied and re-tied his shoe.  
  
"Shut it," said Fred, whose hands couldn't seem to stop trembling.  
  
"When you're finished dressing yourself," said Lee, "which will probably take another hour at this rate, would you mind putting this mess back in order?"  
  
"I've got it," said George, chuckling. He took out his wand and gave it a wave, and the many displaced cushions, pillows and blankets all neatly returned to their proper positions on the sofa and chairs.  
  
"Okay, how do I look?" Fred asked. He was wearing his best shoes and his nicest Italian Muggle suit. By some designer called Armani. It had cost him a fortune.  
  
George and Lee were both in the living room now and they looked Fred over.  
  
"Like shit," said Lee.  
  
"Fuck off," said Fred.  
  
"Yeah, fuck off," said George. "If he looks like shit then so do I."  
  
"Right," said Lee. "You look like shit, George."  
  
"Fuck off!" said Fred and George together.  
  
"I'm just kidding," said Lee, rolling his eyes. "Fred, you look fabulous. Handsome. Hot."  
  
"Definitely hot," said George, grinning.  
  
"Thanks," said Fred, not sure if he believed them, but it was too late to change now. "Okay, uh, I'm going."  
  
"Yeah, get the hell out of here," said Lee.  
  
"Wish me luck," said Fred.  
  
"Good luck or bad?" said George.  
  
"Sod you," said Fred.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Fred, what's with you tonight?" said Angelina, gazing at him with concern as they strolled through Diagon Alley. They veered off to the right and came to a small park. Nearby, the strains of classical music could be heard from a local concert hall. It was a clear night, cool, lovely. Perfect. Even the damn pigeons seemed to be in hiding.  
  
"What?" said Fred, his hand thrust in his pocket, his fingers clutching the box inside.  
  
"You're really tense," said Angelina, as they sat on a bench.  
  
"Oh, yeah," said Fred. "Well, you know, uh, tough day at work."  
  
"Me, too," said Angelina sympathetically. "Sometimes I wonder just what the hell I was thinking going into the Healing Arts."  
  
"You're great at it and you know it," said Fred.  
  
"Thanks," she said, smiling that gorgeous smile that always made him feel weak.  
  
He looked at her; she'd cut her hair so that it fell just past her chin, and she was wearing a simple light blue dress that skimmed her body and fell to her calves. The color set off the richness of her coffee and cream skin and showed off her décolletage to its best advantage. Her feet were in strappy, ridiculously sexy sandals; her toes were painted a lovely pale shade of pink. She looked fantastic.  
  
"You know, we could go back to my place for a little more...dessert," said Angelina, leaning close to him and smiling suggestively.  
  
Merlin, but how he'd love that. Love to run home with her and tear that dress off her and take her to bed. But no, he wasn't leaving this square without doing what he'd set out to do, what he'd been preparing himself for, for the past six months.  
  
"I'd love to, Angie," he said nervously, "but, uh, first I need to ask you something."  
  
"Oh," she said, looking confused. "Okay."  
  
"Well," said Fred, swallowing. "You know I'm completely mad about you and you and me together has been bloody fantastic. I mean, you're my best mate in the whole world and I think I've been in love with you since the day I met you..." His voice trailed off.  
  
She smiled. "This is a romantic speech," she said. "What's the occasion?"  
  
"Right," said Fred, his fingers closing round the small velvet box in his pocket. "The thing is, Angie. Angelina. I've been thinking. A lot. About you and me. And where our relationship is headed--"  
  
"Uh oh," said Angelina, looking suddenly horrified. "Oh, no."  
  
"What?" said Fred, his stomach flopping terribly.  
  
"You-you're...breaking up with me, aren't you?" said Angelina, and her eyes filled with tears.  
  
Fred gulped and goggled at her.  
  
"No!" he said quickly. "No, my god, Angie. No way!"  
  
"Are you sure?" she said, her voice cracking.  
  
"Absolutely," said Fred vehemently. "Are you kidding? I'm crazy about you, I'm happy with you, I want to be with you--"  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really," said Fred, and he swallowed again. "I want to be with you, Angelina. Every day." He paused and the words finally came out of him. "For the...for the rest of my life."  
  
Angelina's eyes widened and her lower lip began to tremble.  
  
"Wh-what?"  
  
Fred's heart was beating so loudly he was quite sure everyone in London could hear it. He gripped the velvet box and pulled it out of his pocket, and although he hadn't really intended to do it, he felt himself start to sink to his knee.  
  
"Angie, will you be my--oh, SHIT."  
  
"What?" Angelina snapped.  
  
"Bloody hell," said Fred, and he sat up on the bench and looked at the knee of his best trousers, which were now covered with the bird droppings he'd managed to lower himself onto.  
  
Angelina began to laugh. "Oh, no," she giggled.  
  
"My best suit," said Fred miserably.  
  
"Fred, I'm so sorry," she said, but she was still laughing.  
  
"Dammit," said Fred. "So much for my romantic proposal."  
  
Angelina stopped laughing and looked at him.  
  
"Proposal?" she said archly. "I don't recall hearing a proposal. You were planning on proposing to me?"  
  
Fred felt his face burn. "Uh, yeah," he said, fumbling with the box in his hand.  
  
"Oh," said Angelina.  
  
"You know, that's why I did the whole knee thing," said Fred. He pulled out his wand and muttered "Scourgify" as he pointed it at his knee; the bird droppings vanished.  
  
"I sort of wondered about that," said Angelina.  
  
"Ruined it," said Fred. "The proposal, I mean."  
  
"Did you?" said Angelina. "Funny, but I'm still here, and I'm still waiting."  
  
Fred looked at her. Her eyes were swimming with unshed tears and she was smiling at him. He felt a squeezing in his chest.  
  
"Marry me," he blurted.  
  
"Yes," she choked, and then they were kissing and laughing and she was crying and Fred was trying to slow his racing heart for fear it might explode in his chest.  
  
He opened the box and turned it so that she could see the ring inside. A simple, single champagne colored diamond. Not too big, but bright and brilliant and perfect all the same.  
  
"Fred, oh my god," she whispered, giggling as she had when he'd first met her all those years ago. "It's beautiful."  
  
"You're beautiful," he said, his voice struggling against the lump in his throat. "Give me your hand."  
  
She did, and it was trembling, and his were trembling as he took the ring from the box and slid it onto the ring finger of her left hand. It fit. It looked...perfect.  
  
She stared at the ring for a moment, and then back up at him. Tears were running down her face.  
  
"Did we just get engaged?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah, I think we did," he said.  
  
"My parents are going to wet themselves when they find out," said Angelina, laughing. "In a good way."  
  
"I'm practically wetting myself right now," said Fred. "I was a bit nervous you might say no."  
  
"Are you daft?" said Angelina. "Say no to you? Haven't you figured out by now that I can't resist you?"  
  
She moved closer to him on the bench and he put his arms round her.  
  
"I think I'm slowly realizing it," he said, grinning.  
  
"I love you," she said. "I love you, Fred Weasley."  
  
"I love you, Angelina Johnson," said Fred, and he kissed her, long and hard and passionately, his heart soaring and his stomach swooping and his head spinning all at the same time. They sat on that bench and kissed and kissed for what seemed like hours before they finally got up and decided it was past time to go home, to Angelina's flat, where they could do more than just kiss each other.  
  
"Where should we go on our honeymoon?" he asked, as they made their way back to her flat.  
  
"Tahiti," she said at once. "It's secluded, it's tropical, we can order room service and we can sunbathe naked."  
  
"You mean, YOU can sunbathe naked," said Fred. "In case you haven't noticed, Angie, I'm a bit pale. I cook up like bacon in the sun."  
  
"That's what Sun Shielding Charms are for," said Angelina. "Unless you don't want to see me bounce around on a beach with no clothes on..."  
  
"On the other hand, Tahiti sounds like a marvelous idea," said Fred at once, as they reached her front door.  
  
"You are so easy, you know that?" she said, rolling her eyes as she unlocked her front door with a key.  
  
"I know, shameful, isn't it?" he said, sliding an arm round her waist and pressing her close as they backed into her flat, pressing his pelvis against hers, letting her feel his arousal.  
  
"Take me to bed right now," she whispered, as she shut her front door and shut them inside and her lips brushed across his.  
  
He kissed her hard, felt the heat radiating off her skin. "If you insist." And he carried her upstairs.  
  
Later, when they had sated themselves and she had fallen asleep, he lay awake, gazing at her as she slumbered. Angelina, he thought. What a perfect name for her. She did look like an angel. She sighed in her sleep and shifted slightly, and her hand moved over his pillow to capture his hand. And he lay awake and gazed at her.  
  
His future. Their life together. They'd move into a house, somewhere not too far from London. They'd get a dog; Angelina loved dogs. They'd alternate Sunday dinners with their families. Have huge holiday get togethers. They'd play Quidditch at the Burrow. They'd have children. Beautiful, exotic children with his blue eyes and her coffee and cream skin. They'd stand on Platform 9¾ and wave as their kids got on the Hogwarts Express. Their kids would grow up and leave home and marry and have their own families, and Fred would still chase after Angelina like a teenager and she would laugh at his jokes, and they'd grow old together. He could see all of it as he watched her sleep.  
  
He was quite possibly the happiest wizard alive.  
  
THE END  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
A/N: And it's over! I'm sad, as always. I was thinking of writing a wedding but to be honest, I just didn't have the energy. I am going to take a much- needed--but hopefully not terribly long--break from fanfic writing. I honestly don't know if I have any sequels in the making yet. My brain is pretty fried as it is. But if I do write I certainly hope y'all will keep reading. The Harry Potter Universe is always full of good stuff to build upon. As always, I greatly appreciate the reviews, the encouragement and the constructive criticism; it's all helpful, it's all good.  
  
In the meantime, if anyone's interested, I am posting "The Book of Morgan Le Fey" over at FictionAlley.org, in the Schnoogle section, but I have been spending the past several weeks making edits and what I think are improvements to the story. I wanted to post the story on another good fanfic site, in part to get it out there, but also because it's given me a chance to re-read it and make several edits and what I think are significant improvements to the first version. I hope all of you will consider giving it a whirl; it's halfway finished at the moment and I hope to have the whole thing posted in the next month.  
  
One more big thanks, too, to all those who assisted me in solving the whole plagiarism issue. I still have to file some sort of "official report" with FictionAlley but as of now it looks like the offending fic has been removed and the author has apparently been removed as well. 


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